Retribution
by Caranath
Summary: Joe's getting married in a week, but will he make it to the wedding in one piece?
1. Prologue

**A/n: **_Happy summer everyone! it is stupid hot here and both on and off base they are begging for people to watch energy consumption by tuning off the A/C and to make other conservation choices. Make sure your pets have plenty of water! _

_**Prologue**_

The man escorted into the richly appointed private office stood out in stark contrast to his surroundings. Where he was dressed shabbily, in ill fitting clothes that bore numerous stains, rips and tears, the chair in which he was silently invited to sit was expensive leather, well tanned and lavishly decorated with hand carved wood accents. It sat across an equally impressive mahogany desk, massive in both size and decor, with inlaid mother of pearl and a Tiffany Lamp in the corner that was worth several hundred thousand dollars.

Behind the desk sat a gentleman whose own attire much more closely matched the room. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored Italian pinstripe suit; with hand made Italian leather shoes; a Rolex that cost as much as a car; and the signet ring bore a diamond that rivaled the Hope itself. Finishing the ensemble was a pure snow white carnation in the lapel. He was of indeterminate age; he could have been 50, or 80. The hair was as white as the carnation, and slicked back in a style last seen in old gagster movies. The two men could not have been more different in appearance. Nevertheless, the man stood, came around the desk and warmly embraced the poorly dressed man as an old friend.

"Aldo, _amico mio. _It has been too long." The man smiled as he kissed each cheek before returning to his chair. "Allow me to express my condolences on your loss." He got a grunt in return, although the attitude was deferential. "I am most happy you decided to come to me upon your return. Anything you wish; if it is within my power to grant, it is yours!" the man proclaimed expansively.

"I wish for Retribution, _capo crimini._" Aldo spoke with a heavy Sicilian accent, his voice thick with suppressed rage.

"Ahh." The gentleman steepled his long, slender fingers as he contemplated. "This is no easy thing you request, _caporegime_."

"I understand, _signor_. But I must have my revenge." The unkempt man refused to be swayed. The other man sighed softly, and a bit sadly but knew that he would eventually capitulate. He owed far too much to this disheveled person in front of him to dismiss him so lightly, even if what he requested was outside of his own comfort zone. _La Familia _ was the most important thing.

"Very well." He leaned back into his sumptuous chair and steepled his long elegant fingers in front of his mouth. He appraised the figure before him silently. He had an inkling of the nature the request as going to take. Question was, was he going to agree? There was no doubt in his mind that he wished fervently to exact his own retribution. But currently, according to his own personal code of conduct, he was helpless to do so. Perhaps, he mused silently as he regarded his Lieutenant, it was time to consider straying from that code. It was no secret that his business dealings had been greatly curtailed in recent months, and his ability to keep the lesser Families in line had become nearly nonexistent since the deaths of his _Piccioto_, the two brothers of the man before him currently. Fortunately, with the return of Aldo, he now had at his disposal his most lethal and terrifying _caporegime_ again. Aldo Mazzola, eldest of the three brothers. An expert in his field; skills which he not only put to good use practically, he shared his knowledge and expertise with his brothers. Brothers who were excellent students.

Mario Vincente made a decision. It was time to change, to adapt to the new century. He still fervently wanted revenge in his own right. He also owed it to Dominic and Luigi Mazzola's memories to honor their sacrifice in his service. "What are your intentions, Aldo?" he finally asked.

"Joe Hardy must die." Aldo spoke flatly.

**A/n:** _and thus begins your weekend. These will be very short chapters.. exceedingly short in some cases so I am gonna be nice. instead of posting a new one weekly, it will be more often. Might be M/W/F, might be T/Th. This takes place immediately before my last one shot, Get Me to the Church on Time. In fact it will roll right on past that and will be given its own chapter( albeit written from a different angle). Fear not, this will not be nearly as bad as you think, I promise. the Joe at the Mercy of a Crazy Person story comes later. Like this fall later. _


	2. Chapter One

**A/n:** _Caranath's handy dandy Babelfish comes in handy every so often: Capo Crimini: _Big Boss Man. _Capo regime: _ BBM's #2. _Piccioto: _BBM's hired muscle. _Just in case anyone was curious and doesn't speak Italian..._

_****__Now, without further ado, da Boyz_

_**Chapter One**_

"Frank!" Joe Hardy shouted up the stairs of their childhood home. "Come on, Frank, we're going to be late!" he groused again before pacing nervously down the hall and back again several more times before his brother came thumping down the stairs. "Sheesh." he huffed, annoyed, "What took you so long?!"

Frank Hardy, at six foot one barely taller than his year younger brother, used that scant inch to full advantage as he loftily assumed a superior expression and headed down the hall, forcing Joe to scramble after him in a most ungainly manner. "Are you coming, or what?" He tossed back over his shoulder with a smirk as he headed out the side door and into the driveway.

Joe stood there, gaping in disbelief, for a solid three seconds before regaining his composure and barreling after, nearly knocking his mother over as she came up from the basement. "Sorry, Mom!" he shouted without even slowing down.

Laura Hardy barely managed to stay upright as her youngest flew by. Fenton came lightly down the stairs and steadied her. "What happened?" amusement coloring his voice at her indignant look.

"Hurricane Joseph is is what happened!" she replied tartly. Fenton let loose with a deep laugh at that comment, causing Laura to glare at him. "Don't you laugh, Fenton Joseph Hardy! This is all your fault anyway!"

Fenton stopped laughing with a choke. "What do you mean, all my fault?" he asked with mock indignation. His eyes were still crinkled with laugh lines. Laura's own eyes sparkled with mirth as she accepted his crooked arm and led her onto the deck.

"There was a reason Gertrude insisted we name our second child after you!" she responded. "Right from the start she just knew he'd be a handful, just like you were."

"Ah, if we are placing blame, then maybe you should look in the mirror, my Love!" he grinned. "after all, _ you _were the one that insisted we have a second child so soon after Frank was born. I believe your exact words were 'He's such a good baby, let's have another!'"

"Sounds like the real culprit is Frank!" Gloria's voice startled the parents as she stepped onto the deck with a smile. "He gave you a false sense of security." she accepted a quick hug from Fenton, and a kiss on the cheek from Laura before settling down in one of the Adirondack style chairs.

"You just missed Frank, dear." Laura said. "They were running a little behind schedule."

"Yeah, I waved to them as we passed each other on the road. But I wasn't looking for him anyway. I really wanted to talk to you." she replied.

"Oh?" Laura asked, cocking her head quizzically. "About what?"

"The Bachelorette Party."

At that pronouncement, Fenton hastily got up and said "Well you certainly don't need me for that. I'll be in my study!" and he beat a rapid retreat, chased by the giggles of the women. Gloria pulled out the folder she had assembled and soon the two ladies were poring over Pinterest suggestions regarding décor, favors and other details.

Meanwhile, Frank and Joe were on the road, and despite Joe's not so subtle hinting, at the speed limit. "I cannot be late, Frank! Do you have any idea what it will look like if I am not there on time!" Joe pleaded with a whine.

"Then maybe next time you won't spring something like this on me at the last second!" Frank refused to be swayed.

"How as I supposed to know the Impala was going to decide to spew oil everywhere on the interstate yesterday afternoon!" Joe pointed out in what he thought was a reasonable tone of voice. "I didn't exactly plan for it, you know. And Hall's car is at the airport" Halloran and Phil Cohen, her Chief Operations officer, were in Washington DC presenting a bid for a new DoD contract.

Frank worked very hard to keep the smile from creeping across his features. In an ironic reversal, for once Joe was the one who was insisting on being somewhere on time. Growing up, Joe was always the one who never really managed to be anywhere on schedule, including school. Tony once called it 'Hardy Standard Time." if you wanted Joe to be somewhere at noon, you told him to be there at 11 and if you were lucky, he'd get there by 1230. "You are just lucky Gloria and I didn't have any big plans for the day, Little Brother. She's been so busy with her Clinicals and studying for her NCLEXs that we haven't had a moment to ourselves in months!"

"Gloria likes me. She'll forgive me if I have to borrow you for an afternoon. Besides I did promise I was bringing dinner over afterward."

"Your idea of dinner is an extra large supreme pizza from Tony's. You do remember she's a vegetarian, right?!" Frank pointed out.

"I am slowly wearing her down to the delights of the carnivorous lifestyle, bro." Joe was supremely smug as he sat back in the seat. "Couldn't you at _least_ go a few miles over?!" he begged. "No cop pulls anyone over doing 62 in a 55 as long as you are keeping up with traffic and not weaving in and out."

With an exaggerated sigh, Frank fiddled with the cruise control panel until the SUV hit 62. Joe's face took on a slightly less panicked expression although his right foot was pressed to the floor in unconscious entreaty. Traffic was light for a Saturday afternoon so in spite of all Joe's dire predictions, they arrived at the destination with a good five minutes to spare.

Biff met them in the parking lot, panic all over his face. "What the hell, man!" he practically screeched as he ripped open the passenger side door. "I needed you here an hour ago!"

"Relax, Dude, I got it allll under control!" Joe drawled as he slipped out and met Frank at the back and started hauling bags of equipment out. You would never know that not five minutes earlier he was freaking out worse than Biff Hooper.

"Under control?! Likely story, Hardy." Biff growled and signaled to a passel of anxiously waiting boys over by the field. They were soon accosted by about a dozen or so 12-14 year olds chomping at the bit to play their final summer intra league baseball game. Frank, Joe and Biff started handing out bats, balls and helmets from the giant sacks that had been pulled from the SUV.

Joe took the time to give Danny Frisk an affectionate tousle of his sandy brown hair and said "Ready, Slugger?' as they walked to the dug out together. He grabbed a spare glove and started tossing balls to the shortstop while Biff hurriedly got everyone else situated. Frank wandered over to the bleacher seating and made himself comfortable.

Frank really didn't pay much attention the the game at all. He had always preferred solitary efforts, like Tennis, and Cross Country. Joe was always the team player, usually in the thick of it. Frank would be jerked back to the game when a particularly amazing play caused the crowd of parents and friends to roar in either approval or dismay, disrupting his daydream. But for the most part, Frank's eye wandered around the crowd. He chuckled when he noticed one pair of adults sneak away from their respective partners to meet up over by the hot dog cart for a very intimate rendezvous. He smirked when he noticed that the guy's wife saw the whole thing and stalked over to the unsuspecting pair, who ended up with mustard in their faces. He watched with a soft smile the two lovebirds who payed even less attention to the game than he did. His eyes narrowed at the pimply teenager who slipped dime bags of weed into some of the other kids' hands( and even a parent or two). **That** one he pulled out his notebook and started writing things down, to include the kid's license plat number from his motorcycle. But for all his observatory skills, he completely missed the slouched figure at the far end of the field with the telephoto lens.

A final roar jerked Frank back into the here and now and he looked away from his notebook to see the game had gotten its' final out. He fervently hoped no one would ask him what the final score was, or even who won, as he had no clue. He sheepishly added his cheer a little later than everyone else as he started making his way back to the dugout. Danny Frisk ran up to him, all excited. "Didya see me throw that last guy out! It was awesome!" but before Frank could respond, Danny had run off to his father and sister and was giving them a play by play.

Joe came up, breathless and somehow covered in grass stains. "Pretty cool game, huh, Bro!" he grinned. Frank smiled back and made a vague comment in reply. Joe's grin got even wider. "You have no clue, do you?! Heheheheh" Joe clapped a heavy arm across his brother's back before rejoining the kids who were still milling about the field. Frank blushed and went to help Biff load all the equipment back into the bags and into the SUV. They made short work of it and turned down Biff's offer to join the rest of the team for ice cream at the old fashioned soda fountain downtown.

Before too long, they were back in the SUV headed to their parents' house. Frank had gotten a hold of Gloria, who was still there and passed on the suggestion from Laura that they all have dinner there. They swung by a Chinese take out place and ordered enough food to feed an army. Joe's excuse was he was alone and had no one to cook for him every night so he needed leftovers to sustain him for the week. Frank just shook his head and made a mental note of which container held the Muu Shu Pork. Last time he never got any...

Fenton met them as they pulled into the driveway and adroitly reached into the back seat and grabbed several paper sacks full of food. Only Frank noticed he surreptitiously checked to see which one had the egg rolls first. The three men chatted lightly as they made their way through the front door and into the kitchen, where Laura and Gloria had already set out plates, forks and napkins. Both Frank and Gloria opted for chopsticks, though.

Since the night was still pleasant, everyone ate out on the deck. Joe sprawled on the steps, Gloria sat in Frank's lap on the swing, and Laura and Fenton held dominion in the chairs. When Laura asked how the game had gone, Joe got a wicked gleam in his eye and gleefully said "Ask Frank."

Laura expectantly looked at her eldest and said "So, who won, Dear?" Frank hastily took a large bite out of the egg roll he was holding and took a very long time to chew, all the while giving Joe a glare, who couldn't contain himself and burst out laughing.

"He has no idea, Mom. He never watched the game at all. I bet if I looked, the notebook in his back pocket would have plenty of new entries about Mr Stackwell and Mrs Bristoe and their attempt to be sneaky." Joe grinned as he winked at his brother. "We really should send a bill along with the evidence to their spouses to use in the divorce proceedings."

"You knew?!" Frank had managed to swallow the egg roll without choking too badly.

"Dude, I was the third base coach all summer. I saw every person that left the bleachers." Joe responded. "And to answer your question, Mom, the other team won by one run."

"What about the dealer, Smart Boy?!" Frank retorted.

"Oh, you mean Officer Rokeach?" Joe asked innocently before spitting out his beer in laughter at Frank's look of disbelief. "He's selling dime bags of Marjoram. So far only one parent has come back demanding a refund. He got a night in lockup. " Joe chuckled evilly. "The kids are none the wiser, for the most part, and after about the third or fourth buy he scares 'em straight. Collig says the program has cut drug incidents in the neighborhood by almost a third in the past six months."

Over the general laughter from the rest of the family, Frank threw up his hands in resignation. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Joe shrugged. "You never came to the Youth Center on your own, so I figured you didn't need to know the inside scoop. Biff and the other Counselors know all the undercover cops, including Rokeach and one of the girls who passes for like 16. Honestly, most of these kids are just poor, they aren't bad or have crappy home lives. It's just an added measure of security. The longer they go before starting, the more likely they are to get out of the neighborhood unscathed. One of the girls who graduated this year ended up with a nice partial scholarship to one of the SUNY's upstate. Potsdam or Cortland, I think."

Laura spoke up then. "Plus with people like Daniel Frisk getting involved and letting his own kids participate, the other kids are learning they don't have to feel stigmatized for being less well off than other families. And on the flip side, Danny and his sister can see how the other half has to live sometimes. Keeps them grounded too."

Frank was quiet the rest of the evening, which actually did not last much longer. When Laura stood up and declared she was done in, Gloria followed suit, saying she wanted to get a decent night's sleep for a change. So the whole gang gathered up the dirty dishes and did a quick clean up, with Joe magnanimously letting Gloria have the leftover vegetable fried rice for her lunch the next day.

After good night kisses to mothers and girlfriends, and manly handshakes to fathers, the two brothers were once again in the SUV headed toward's Joe's house. Frank was still quiet, and eventually Joe noticed that it wasn't his brother's usual quiet, but more of a troubled one. "What's bugging you, Bro?" he asked as they pulled in to the driveway.

Frank shrugged as he stepped out and flipped open the back door to unload the equipment into Joe's garage. "I guess I never realized how important the Center was, is all."

"Dude. It's no big deal. Like I said, you never seemed all that interested. And that's okay. But if you _are_ looking to get involved more, they want to start up a tutoring and after school study group once the year begins again. Be more your speed. Lots of these kids are plenty smart, but the school doesn't have any resources for much beyond the basics. Infotech is gonna donate a bunch of refurbished computers. Talk to Phil when he gets back, I think he was thinking about offering workshops and stuff too."

"I'll think about it." Frank considered the offer as he dragged bags of equipment into the garage, avoiding the Impala as it sat there, a large tarp under the chassis keeping the oil mostly contained. "Do you need a ride anywhere tomorrow?" he asked.

"Nah. Picked up the stuff I needed to repair her; I'll work on it all day. Should be up and running before work on Monday. Go enjoy the day with Gloria. I have it on good authority she gets off early."

"Oh?"

Joe smiled. "Yup. She told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to bug you for anything short of Armageddon tomorrow afternoon. And even then I had to call Sam and Joanna first, Dad second, and Greg third. Although she hinted that I should really leave Dad for last." He gave his brother a friendly punch. "Don't make any plans beyond taking a shower and dressing semi decently. You have been warned."

Frank chuckled softly and found his mood had lightened considerably. "So I'll see you Monday. Remember we have that meeting at 9. Try to be on time for a change."

"You would keel over in a dead faint if I did. I would never inflict all the paperwork on myself on purpose. But I'll see what I can do." and with a final smirk he said goodnight to his his brother and set the alarm before heading upstairs to call his fiance to wish her a good night.

**A/n: **_so, as I sit here and cut and past my way through each chapter, I came to realize that the Chapters centered around the boys will be more my usual length, while the ones focusing on the Villains will be shorter and less.. exciting. I also came to the conclusion that this won't be nearly as cliff hangery as ay of my other ones. yes, ladies and gentlemen, this time you the reader are Omnipotent and know what is coming! or at least if you pay attention you will. Are you paying attention?! _


	3. Chapter Two

**A/n: **_It occurred to me as I prepared to upload today's installment that I realized that I am evil. You see, the short, pseudo cliffhanger chapters are on Thursdays.. which means you must wait nearly 5 whole days for an update on the Boys. bwhahahaha_

**Chapter Two**

Aldo Mazzola had been very busy. First, he spent some time and (Vincente's) money on a haircut, a few new outfits and a few tools of the trade. Then he spent time poring over all the information on the Hardy family Vincente had amassed during his period of exile. When he wasn't doing that, he was canvassing all of Joe Hardy's regular haunts: home, work, the Youth Center, Mr. Pizza, the gym; everywhere Joe could reasonably be seen semi regularly. Not even the donut shop was spared. The irritating part of the whole process was Hardy's routine. He didn't have one. Never took the same route to anywhere two days running. About the only thing he was consistent with was his daily arrival at the 2 story brick building he called work. He could be counted on to arrive between 0900 and 0930 most days. It was a week before Mazzola had the opportunity to mess with the car and even then he was interrupted so he only partially severed the oil line; not having the time to also cut the break line as well.

The edge of the baseball field at the Youth center was far enough away from the bleachers that even if he had been noticed, he would not have been easy to identify. Not that it mattered; he couldn't help but snigger in derision at the way the older brother never even glanced his way. Perhaps Frank Hardy would not be as big an issue as he had originally thought. In fact, outside of work, the two men were seldom together, and even then it was more likely for Frank to remain in the office while Joe was out and about. Too bad the roles had not been reversed, it would have been too easy to plug the blond one in the Agency. Just walk right in.

He thought about doing it during a stakeout, but decided it was too risky. The woman he usually partnered with turned out to be a crack shot and very good at picking up on things. No, he had to find an isolated spot where he could grab him without fear of interruption.. He just had to be patient, although he knew his _capo crimini _ would not let him drag it out forever.

Aldo Mazzola pulled out his wallet and removed a small photograph, black and white but yellowed with age. There were four figures, 3 boys all under the age of ten and an infant held in the lap of the eldest. He kissed the tip of his finger and gently touched the infant's head with it. He was sitting in a small, nondescript car that blended in with all the other cars in the neighborhood. He chose his spot well. From this vantage point, he could easily see directly into the open garage through a convenient break in the leaves of a stately old oak tree. Joe Hardy could be glimpsed as he stepped into the view.

He spent the afternoon watching his target.

**A/n: **_everyone taking notes and keeping score?! _


	4. Chapter 3

**A/n:** _Feeling only marginally evil today, since the heat wave has broken. Therefore, I post this early instead of dinner time. Has nothing whatsoever to do with that fact that I will be out of the house at dinner time and gone the rest of the evening. __  
_

**Chapter Three**

Joe swore as he dropped the wrench for the fourth time in as many minutes. Part of him was ready to admit defeat and call for a tow truck to bring the Impala to a mechanic shop. But then his pride got the better of him and he grimly swore he'd fix it himself.

Working on engines was one of the few things he did without needing lots of little minor distractions. He could easily focus his entire energy on it. In fact, he rarely even turned on the radio for background noise as he tinkered. Even so, he was aware of his surroundings and quickly slid out from under the car when he heard another one pull into his driveway. He was slightly surprised at who it was.

"Umm, Hi?" He quasi-asked. "What're you doing here?"

"Thought I'd come over and help you with the car." was the reply.

"No offense, Dad, but you can't even change the oil in your own." Joe raised an eyebrow sardonically.

"By 'help' I meant sit on the nearest object situated about waist high and offer unsolicited advice. I brought lunch." Fenton produced a long skinny bag that contained a pair of 12 inch subs and a couple of bags of chips as well as two bottles of Arizona Iced Tea (Green tea with ginseng and honey). "It was either this, or be roped into some chore or other myself. Your mother has been hinting the lawn needs mowing." With an over dramatic shudder, Fenton allowed Joe to choose his sandwich and chip combo.

Joe just laughed as he selected his lunch. He sprawled against the built in cabinet that housed all his tools. They spent a few comfortable minutes just munching away and engaging in idle chitchat.

"So, how is your lovely bride to be?" Fenton asked between bites.

Joe smirked. "Apparently Phil spends all his time gushing over his impending fatherhood. She says that outside of the actual meetings, he's completely loopy with paternal natterings. Dragged her into a baby store to get her 'maternal opinion' on stuff." he shifted before continuing. "She had the nerve to tell me last night that it was weird for her to consider talking to me her 'adult' conversation for the day!" Joe huffed in mock annoyance.

"Doesn't she want children, Son?" Fenton asked, a hint of alarm in his voice. He was _really _ looking forward to being a grandfather.

"Oh, we talked about it in general, vague, 'maybe someday' terms. She's not baby crazy, nor is she completely against the idea. If it happens, it happens. Neither one if us have any strong opinions one way or another." He paused and looked at his father quizzically. "Are you okay with postponing grandparent privileges?"

Fenton tried to hide his disappointment. "Your mother has already started looking at baby afghan patterns."

"I'll place an order for one. I'll give it to Phil and Pam." Joe teased. "Besides, I _know_ Gloria wants a bunch. So you still have her and Frank to carry on the family name." Joe grew earnest as he cleaned up the empty wrappers and stuffed them in the garbage can. "Seriously, dad, we just want some time for ourselves first. Raising Mini Mes is gonna be exhausting."

Fenton chuckled. "You can say that again. Let's just say I am grateful the Twin Curse on your mother's side never came to fruition. Not sure I could have survived two of you!"

The rest of the afternoon, the two men were oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Fenton proved an able assistant after all and would hand tools to his son upon request and within a couple of hours, Joe had the Impala back up to snuff. "Musta run over something sharp to have cut the line so cleanly." he commented as he was cleaning up.

"Wouldn't you remember something like that?" Fenton asked.

"Meh. Maybe. The gym parking lot has been a mess ever since that dumpster truck broke and spilled all over the place. Can't avoid everything unfortunately." Joe shrugged as he shut the garage door and invited his father for a beer on the back deck. "If you want dinner, it'll have to be leftover Chinese."

"No thanks. I'll pass. Your mother was picking up some fresh salmon at the market." Fenton loved salmon, but his sons hated it so while they were growing up he seldom got to indulge.

Joe made a face at the mention of the coral colored fish. "Blech. That stuff is nasty." He walked his father to the door and waved good bye as Fenton pulled out of the driveway. Across the street and around the corner, Aldo Mazzola also drove away.

**A/n: **_Everybody is able to follow, right? You can tell where everyone is in relation to each other? _


	5. Chapter 4

**A/n:** _it's raining. I suppose I should be grateful but it's also very dark and dismal outside, pretty much sucking any motivation I may have had to be in any way productive right out of me. Luckily I still have a few chapters ready to go so for today, you get lucky. for now.__  
_

**Chapter Four**

"_Amico mio._" Vincente smiled warmly at his visitor. "It is always a pleasure to see you. What news do you have for me?" He was keenly hoping his _capo regime _could report some progress on the Hardy Problem. He was not disappointed.

"_Capo crimini_, I have had had much opportunity to observe Hardy. It will be difficult, but it can be done. Do I have your permission to proceed with the arrangements?" Mazzola asked. "Do you wish the details?"

Vincente held up a well manicured hand. "That will not be necessary. I trust you to do what is required to minimize our exposure. Continue as we discussed. If it becomes feasible to add the father or the brother, do so. But only if it will not endanger the primary goal. When will you do it?" he asked.

"Soon, _Signor_. The man is getting married in just over a week and will be leaving the country on his honeymoon immediately after. How poetic would it be if he were to die on the way to the wedding, yes?" Yellowed teeth showcased a feral grin. "The car has proven to be an easy target when he is not at home or at the office."

"My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail." Vincente's return grin was positively malicious in its' glee. "I shall have to procure a suitable wedding gift."

Vincente then steered the topic towards other concerns, chief among them Aldo's recommendation for new _Piccioto _ to replace his younger brothers, dead at the hands of the _policia_ when they were torturing Joe Hardy. Several hours were spent discussing various underlings within the organization, many of which had wormed their way in while Aldo was exiled to Italy when he had to hide from the FBI. They both spoke with the years of experience avoiding incriminating explicit conversation afforded them. Had they been overheard, there was nothing said or implied that could remotely lead to a conviction in any US court.

Eventually, though, Mazzola took his leave of Vincente and the elderly gentleman was left alone to contemplate a world without those annoying Hardys. As Mazola was leaving, Vincente's eldest son and heir came in. "Papa, what has you in such a good mood?" Mario Junior asked.

"Soon, my son, the Family will be able to rest easier at night. The Hardy family will no longer be such a thorn in our side." Vincente waved for his son to take a seat. "Considering the number of times you have begged me to take them out, I am sure this news pleases you."

Junior could not contain his glee. "This is wonderful, Papa! What made you change your mind?"

"Aldo requested Retribution for his brothers' loss. I decided to grant it. Joe Hardy will be dead before the week is out."

"This is fantastic! But what about the other two?" Junior especially held a hatred for Frank, as it was Frank who humiliated him in front of underlings with a few well placed martial arts moves.

"I have given latitude. If it can be done, it shall be."

"No, Papa! You must give the order for all of them to die! Should either one live, they will come after us when the younger son dies!" Junior insisted with passion.

Vincente held up a hand. "It is done. It is enough that they will be devastated by the loss. If perhaps someday they pursue vendetta, we will handle it then." He refused to be baited or coerced into something more than had been authorized. Junior attempted to argue the point some more, but was unceremoniously told the subject was closed. "They have not pursued their own vendetta, even after the treatment young Joseph received at our hands. I only agreed to Aldo's request as it was more than a Family matter, it was a blood family request. You will abide by my order!" at that pronouncement, Junior muttered surly agreement and stalked out.

Soon after, Junior called his own meeting with his private Lieutenants, the ones that answered to him alone. They discussed taking matters into their own hands, with the consensus being that it was necessary for the long term survival of the Family to remove all three Hardys as potential obstacles.

**A/n: **_yeap. I couldn't leave well enough alone. Not one but TWO diabolical plots against our Heroes. and they are clueless! Have a great weekend as you all wait patiently for Tuesday's update!_


	6. Chapter 5

**A/n:** _Plebe summer is coming to a close and I have a new batch of poor starving college students to take care of. I also realized that somehow or another I slacked off royally and am no longer 5 chapters ahead, I am only 3. I hang my head in shame and resolve to do better. But I probably won't and by next week I will be scrambling to meet my self imposed twice weekly deadlines. For all you bloodthirsty people salivating at the thought of Joe getting hurt: the wait is over. _

**Chapter Five**

For the umpeenth time in his life, Joe Hardy was in the Emergency room at Bayport General. The unusual part was the reason he was there. He was not there because he had gotten shot, or stabbed, or beat up or otherwise worked over by some lowlife. He wasn't even there in support of his brother, or any other family member, friend or co worker. Nope. This time, he was there due to sheer dumb luck. He sighed in disgust for the tenth time in as many minutes, causing Joanna to look over the top of the magazine she was reading and laugh at him.

"Don't you start." he growled at her. "You haven't known me long enough to have permission to laugh at me." He shifted in the hard plastic chair, being careful to not jostle his broken wrist, and wishing mightily they'd call his name already. "Bad enough you just _had_ to call Frank and rat me out."

"Be grateful Halloran isn't in town. Otherwise I would have called her too." she retorted.

"You know, I hereby take back every good word I ever put in for you. If had known you would be like this I would have told Frank to hire the other guy." he groused.

"You would have killed him in a week. Admit it, Hardy. You like partnering with me." Joanna smiled smugly and yet serenely at the same time. Before Joe could make a witty and sharp tongued comeback, his name was called. He settled for giving her a dirty look before standing up and following the nurse back into the examination rooms.

"So, what do we have here?" the intern said as he came into the small curtained area where Joe had been cooling his heels for a good half an hour after the Nurse took his vitals. He gently prodded Joe's wrist and grimaced in sympathy at his gasp of pain. "How did this happen?" he asked

Joe grunted. "I'd rather not talk about it, it's kind of embarrassing."

"Oh?" the intern's eyebrow raised very high up on his forehead. He excused himself and rather hastily said he'd be right back with his Resident, who would confirm the diagnosis and sign off on the necessary x rays. Fast forward another fifteen minutes and the Intern returned with one of the Residents, someone whom had seen Joe more than once before in a professional capacity.

"Hey Doc." Joe ruefully smiled at the newcomer. " Didya miss me?"

"Not really, no. I thought we told you there was no discount for frequent visits?!" Dr. Martin, a middle aged man of slight build and thinning hair, responded with a grin. Neither man really noticed the shocked look that came over the intern's face at the exchange, nor his discreet slipping out of the area. Dr. Martin conducted his own, albeit cursory, examination and said "Yup. You busted it. Who did you knock out?"

"Nobody." Joe replied with an embarrassed laugh. "Seriously I _really_ don't wanna talk about it."

The intern had returned by this time, and Dr. Martin instructed him to send Joe up to Xray and then on to Ortho for a cast. The intern brought over a wheelchair and made Joe get in, despite his protestations that he was quite capable of walking, it wasn't a leg that was broken. He then flagged an orderly and told him to bring the patient to Xray and to wait for him there and proceed to Ortho immediately afterward.

No amount of bribery or pleading from Joe convinced the orderly to take a break and let him do things himself. "No offense, Mr Hardy, but you have kind of a bad rep around here." the kid chuckled.

"Sheesh. Sneak out of ICU one measly time when you are 14 and you are branded for life." Joe grumped but stopped the badgering. Soon he was wearing a nice lead apron and flirting with the young, pretty Xray tech. He manfully stifled the gasp of pain when she positioned his wrist on the plate and took the picture. It wasn't too long before he was back in the wheelchair, being chauffeured to Ortho, a large envelope filled with pictures of his broken wrist in his lap.

Ortho was much busier, it was late summer and a lot of kids had broken a bone or two playing sports. Here the orderly did leave him, and took the wheelchair along. He sent a quick text to Joanna telling her where he was and she texted back that she was on her way up and did he want coffee?

_Dumbest question of the day_ he texted back one handed.

Joanna arrived coffee in hand and much to Joe's disgust, with his brother. "Go away. Your presence is neither required nor welcome." he snarled as he gave yet another dirty look to his betrayer.

Frank ignored the tirade. "Are you okay, what happened?!" to his credit, the concern was mild and not at Chicken Little standards, a huge improvement from as little as a year ago.

"As I have said to every. Single. Person. Who has asked me today, _I do not want to talk about it_." He would have crossed his arms in a pout, but his wrist was throbbing. He settled for turning his head away from the now teasing grins of his brother and his partner. Frank raised an eyebrow in Joanna's direction, but she shook her head.

"Oh no, no way am I tattle telling. I am the one who has to endure overnight stakeouts with him. Grumpy Joe is migraine inducing." She reached over and patted Joe on the head like he was 8. "Now that your real babysitter has arrived, I am off. Dance recital night at school oh joy." She hesitated. "On second thought, it might be less annoying to stay here..."

"Meh. For the 'Grumpy' comment you can just suffer at the recital. And take lots of pictures so we can embarrass Melissa at the next company picnic." Joe urged. So she took off.

It was a long wait. Frank learned almost immediately that Joe _really_ meant what he said about not wanting to talk about it so instead they discussed the wedding, which was happening in 3 days' time. Joe forgot all about the pain as he got excited, discussing stuff that he never thought he'd be excited to discuss, like flowers and party favors. "Halloran is freaking out big time. She comes home tomorrow, and she swears that is not nearly enough time to get ready. Gloria is still kidnapping her tomorrow evening right? For the spa thingy?" he asked.

"So far as I know, yeah. You and I have a date with the guys at the cabin. Bruce has already got everything set up and they'll meet us there. Tony is making enough pizza to fill even your bottomless pit of a stomach, we'll just have to eat it cold. Chet and Biff are bringing the beer." he swiped Joe's coffee cup and took a swig. "That gives us almost 36 hours to get over any hangover.. I thought just you and I could stay there the next night since you aren't allowed to see the bride. If we get on the road by 8, we'll be back in plenty of time."

"Sounds like a plan." Before he could say any more, though, his name was called and he stood up to follow yet another orderly into the back. The Ortho doctor was gazing intently at the Xrays as Joe was brought into the room.

"You certainly get around, don't you?" he mused. "Any arthritis in those fingers yet?"

"Nahh, not too bad, except in the dead of winter." Joe replied as he got comfortable and allowed the orderly to help him take his shirt off.

"How'd you break them? Doesn't look like your typical 'slammed into a door.' the doctor asked.

Joe sat and thought about it. "Hmm, I think that was when Macowski went after me with a hammer." Joe named a low rent thug who had managed to capture him and tried to extract information on the case he had been working on with his father and brother while he was still in high school. "Maybe 8 or 9 years ago now? I guess." Joe shrugged, supremely not caring. 'The wrist gonna be the same way?"

"Probably. It is a clean break and there does not appear to be too much joint damage, but you will definitely lose some stability." the doctor responded. " Mikey here will wrap you up all nice and tight. 6 weeks should do the trick."

"Any chance we could do something a little less permanent, doc? I am getting married in three days. No way I can get the tux altered to fit over a cast. Not this late."

The doctor considered. "Perhaps. Instead of a full plaster cast, Mikey, can we try one of the polymers?" Mikey also considered before nodding his head. "Put a brace on over the wrap to provide extra stability. Should be fine."

"Then go with that." Joe thanked the doctor, who left with Mikey, who was off to get the supplies ready. He soon returned with a roll of what looked like an Ace bandage plus a bowl of paste. Or something. He unrolled the bandage then swirled it in the paste, covering the entire thing. Once it was soaked through, he covered Joe's wrist with a gauze sleeve and then began wrapping the bandage around it, not quite pulling it tight. Within seconds, though, Joe realized it was beginning to harden, almost like papier mache or glue drying. It was rigid, and yet still had some give to it. The over all effect was a thin veneer. Then he positioned a wrist brace on and that was tightened severely.

"This will not be as durable as a regular cast, so absolutely NO lifting, carrying or using the wrist at all. No driving, either. Nothing that puts any sort of strain on it. If I were you, I'd come back after the wedding and get a real cast, but that's just me."

"I'll think about it. I do have 2 days before we leave on the honeymoon..."

"Then you _definitely _want to come back. What fun is it if you can't brace yourself in bed, if you know what I mean?!"

Joe got a knowing look in his eyes and didn't even blush although a slow smile crept over his face. "You may have a point, there, Mikey."

"Sit tight and let that harden some more. I'll be back in about half an hour or so." Mikey left, taking the dregs of his art project with him. Joe leaned back on the table and closed his eyes but after a few moments was disturbed by a gentle clearing of the throat.

"Greg?! What the hell are you doing here?" Joe exclaimed incredulously.

Greg Herndon looked over his shoulder at the young intern from earlier. "_THIS_ is your abuse victim?!" he asked in amazement.

Nervously the intern came further into the room. "There is no shame in admitting it, Mr Hardy. Abuse is not limited to women."

"Where in the _**hell**_ do you get the insane idea I am being abused?!" Joe couldn't decide whether to be outraged, or amused, and from the looks of Greg's face, neither could he.

Suddenly less sure of himself, the intern stuttered "When a patient comes in and refuses to explain how an injury occurs, and there are other signs, we have to pursue that possibility."

"Dude. I didn't want to discuss it because it is as embarrassing as hell. The last thing I need is for my brother, or anyone else, for that matter, learning that I tripped over my own two feet, on a flat surface with nothing and no one around me who could have caused it. I'd never live it down!"

"But your xrays? And your medical record? All those injuries?!"

"Joe's a Private Investigator. Has been since he was like 16. Getting beat up by low lifes is a typical work week for him." Greg supplied. "You aren't a local, are you?" he asked with a grin. "Anyone who grew up in Bayport knows the Hardy Boys."

The intern shook his head, which was now beet red from hairline to neck. "I just started three weeks ago." Greg took pity on him at that point and suggested that they chalk this up to slight overenthusiasm. As a Police Officer he knew it would be counter productive to dissuade the young intern from going with a gut reaction in the future. It can, and had, saved lives before and been the impetus for real abuse victims to get help. After a significant look complete with arched eyebrow at Joe, he too added his appreciation for the interns diligence and concern.

"If you want to know my sordid past, just hang out with Nurse Keller in ICU. She has plenty of stories to tell." Joe said with a grin as the intern apologized for the twelfth time. "It's okay, really. Nice to know somebody actually gives a damn about helping others." he reassured the young man. They were interrupted by Mikey's return, who shooed everyone out so he could inspect his handiwork.

Mikey pronounced it good, and sent Joe on his way with repeated admonishments to use the wrist for absolutely nothing until he got a real cast put on it. Joe thanked the guy and promised to obey. He met his brother in the waiting area and broke the bad news.. no driving allowed. To his credit, all Frank did was sigh.

**A/n:**_ True story: the incident with the intern actually happened to a friend of mine, as in he literally DID fall down a flight of stairs (tripped over a pet toy) and was too embarrassed to admit as much to anyone. the usual excuse: I walked into a door, I fell down the stairs, can be code for abuse. against either gender. and there was was a slightly overzealous intern who assumed the worst when he saw the other bruises and medical file( my friend was a NCAA soccer athlete and was constantly getting banged up) It did get straightened out eventually but not before all sorts of other people had to get involved. _


	7. Chapter 6

**A/n:** _It's Thursday! and I have been quite productive the last two days, having knocked out almost three complete chapters! I am so on a roll! No this does not mean you get an extra one posted. However you can spend the weekend laughing at the stupidity of the bad guys. Or the irony of missed opportunities. or Karma. whichever. _

**Chapter Six**

Unbeknownst to the Groom, his imminent demise was being plotted in not one, but two ways. Aldo was methodically mapping out the route he was sure Hardy would take from his home to the church, going so far as to not only drive it, but walk it as well, looking for the perfect vantage point from which to spring his trap. He identified three possible spots, all sufficiently apart from one another that if one failed, he'd have time to move on to the next before Joe did.

Junior, meanwhile, was busy plotting his own attack, one that was far more ambitious and far reaching. He had decided to blow up the Agency when both brothers were in the office. He was currently interviewing various and sundry demolition experts of the Underworld in the hopes of finding someone who worked cheaply but promised results. There was only one teeny flaw.. he had no idea that Joe was not going to be in the office for over a week due to his honeymoon. He was so incensed at his father's refusal to approve his plan, that he stopped talking to him altogether and thus missed all the intel Aldo had been supplying.

Of the two, Aldo definitely had the better chance of success, but only because he was not allowing emotion to dictate his actions. He continually updated his intel, using a variety of sources. When he discovered that the two brothers were actually not going to be coming to the wedding from Joe's home, or even their parents' or Frank's apartment, he quickly adjusted on the fly and discovered the route they were taking. He was quite pleased to discover there were several long stretches of road that were devoid of civilization and even heavy traffic. This actually made his plan all the easier. He could shoot out the tire at several spots, just before curves, which would cause the Impala to wreck in a most satisfactory manner. He chose his spot with care, noting the large ditch just beyond a particular curve which would serve as a fitting grave site. No one passing by would even notice a car in the ditch as they sped along the road.

Junior, blissfully ignorant on the details, continued on his path. While Aldo tended to do everything solo, Junior employed many minions, (although none wore yellow shirts and overalls *grin) and was far less cautious. He soon had a brother/sister team who had been responsible for blowing up many a safe or secure location. They eagerly agreed to to do the job, because courtesy of Fenton Hardy 20 years earlier, their father had died in prison after being apprehended following a string of high profile bank robberies in which the safes were blown. He found another set of thugs who were willing to set themselves up as snipers during the funeral to take down Fenton himself at the funeral of his beloved children. He thought he had it all planned and that nothing would go wrong.

**A/n: **_you gotta love it when they make it so easy to laugh at them, right? but do not be fooled, Both Aldo and Mario Junior should not be taken lightly or dismissed as being incompetent. they may fail once or twice, but neither will give up._


	8. Chapter 7

**A/n:**_ Just a reminder: this site is for fans to write their stories for fun and maybe spread a little joy. If you want professional level writing, go to amazon. That isn't to say that I don't consider a few writers here to have the potential to be a commercial success, cuz yeah, a couple I really do; but at the end of the day we do this for the enjoyment. Don't like what we write or how we write it, don't read. it's really that simple. If we want help, we have Betas for that. I have both been a Beta and have asked for advice from one. _

_And now, Halloran returns!_

**Chapter Seven**

"Joe?" Halloran's voice rang out as she entered the hallway. "Honey, are you home?"

"In the kitchen, Babe." Joe's voice drifted out.

Halloran kicked her luggage out of the way as she hung her light jacket on the coat rack. She continued to speak as she walked into the kitchen. "gawd the flight sucked. Turbulence the whole way, My back feels like..." she stopped mid sentence as she came in and beheld her love. "Joe!" she screamed. "What happened to you?!" Abruptly her tone changed from shock and worry to anger. "You _promised _ me you wouldn't take on any new cases!"

"Babe, I swear to you I am **not** on a case. I promised and I meant it. This," he raised his splinted wrist; "is the product of simple bad luck. I fell. That't it. I wasn't ducking bullets, I didn't punch anyone out. I was walking until I wasn't." he smiled and used his non broken wrist to chuck a finger under her chin to gently tip it up so he could kiss her. "I'd like to lie and say I jumped into the path of a speeding train to save a puppy from getting run over, but the truth is, I tripped over my own two feet. Can't even blame a loose shoe lace. I was in loafers." He earnestly gazed into her eyes, which slowly changed from anger and hurt to concern and a little bit of shame for having jumped to the conclusion she did so quickly. She finally nodded and he kissed her again, eve more gently.

"Guess I shouldn't have assumed the worst." She softly said.

"It's okay, Babe. Even I can admit that very rarely I deserve the reputation." Even so, sometimes Joe wished that his past wouldn't keep coming back to haunt him quite so often. (_All I want is to be treated like a real adult all the time_) he sighed silently. He was hoping the wedding would hammer home the point once and for all. He mentally shook his head to clear the morbid thoughts and smiled brightly. "I _had_ planned on surprising you with dinner all laid out, candlelight, wine, the whole nine yards." he ruefully lifted the splinted arm. "Obviously, that isn't happening." He shrugged. "But!" he continued brightly "I _did _manage to have it catered." he stepped around the kitchen island and indicated the several take out containers that bore Mr Pizza's logo. "One of Tony's delivery guys dropped it off about ten minutes ago so it should still be warm. But you'll have to serve."

Halloran laughed and shooed him out of the way, as she was downright starving, and the rich spicy aroma of lasagna and garlic bread was making her salivate. Luckily, they owned a wine opener that was attached to the counter and could be operated one handed, so Joe took care of that as she ladled dinner onto plates. She also took a sneak peek at the dessert and squealed at the sight of tiramisu. It was one of the few baked goods she never quite mastered.

They spent dinner with her telling him all about the trip to Chicago and Phil's masterful sales pitches to the potential DoD contractors. She confessed complete cluelessness with regards to the specifics, but trusted that Phil and the team could deliver for the price they presented. "If we get it, it means the main Team will be working steadily for at least the next 5 years. Long term projections are looking to be Millions in revenue!" When Joe didn't react quite as enthusiastically as she had expected( and hoped) she asked what was wrong.

"I saw some of those programs in use, Hon. People died. Sure, most of 'em were the enemy. But not all of 'em. I'm not saying you are Stark Enterprises pre Avengers, but don't get caught up in the hype. That technology can be used for very destructive purposes."

"But you use it all the time!" she cried, a little offended.

"Yes, yes we do. But Dad beat into our heads the enormous responsibility we have in using listening devices, and software programs to track bank records and all that junk. Look, Sweetheart I am not accusing you of being irresponsible or doing anything illegally, just be very aware of what your programs are being used for once it leaves your research lab." He tried to smooth things over, and she let him, more out of exhaustion than anything else.

It was an early night for both of them. Without proper support from a real cast, Joe's wrist throbbed continuously, and Halloran had been going non stop for the week in Chicago. They both fell asleep in minutes, although their normal routine of being cuddled in each other's arms was not possible. Halloran woke up early as she had a ton of stuff to do and almost no time to do it in. It was nerves that woke her and yet she padded downstairs and started a pot, extra strong, and had no intention of actually eating anything.

When Joe came down about half an hour later, he tut tutted at her and said she should eat something.

"I can't. My stomach is all knots." she wailed.

"Honey. You need to just relax. Everything is going to be just perfect." Joe soothed.

"Something is going to go wrong. I know it. It always does!" she refused to be comforted.

Joe needed every ounce of his natural ebullience to keep her spirits up as well as his own. Luckily his cheesy humor and bad puns elicited smiles and reluctant chuckles. They spent the morning quietly, joe having talked her into just staying put and not worrying about this that or the other. Of course he also knew that at 1 Gloria would be showing up to take Halloran to her bridal spa day. Early in the planning stages she had expressed her opinion that she didn't want a bridal shower, as they needed nothing for the home and had plenty of money to pay for the wedding themselves. But Laura had privately suggested to Joe a solution: let her and (at the time) Melody book an overnight spa experience for the three of them. Massages, mani, pedi, facial, the whole nine yards. Joe was all for it and even promised to pack an overnight bag so it would be a complete surprise. When Gloria replaced Melody as Maid of Honor after Mel's untimely demise, she insisted that they keep the appointment.

Of course breaking his wrist complicated matters but Joanna felt sorry for him and had come over one morning to do the packing for him. It was currently sitting in the coat closet buried beneath some ski equipment. All he needed to do was keep her occupied until 1. Unfortunately his preferred method was right out. (_shoulda gotten a real cast after all. Who needs a tux jacket for a wedding photo anyway?!_) So he was forced to come up with more and more ludicrous things. Although after a bit it got pretty easy , once he started using the 'The doc said I can't use this wrist for _anything, _Honey' line.

He had successfully invented enough trivial things to get to 1230, but by then he was tapped out. Luckily for him Halloran decided to make lunch at that point, declaring that afterward she would be taking off to do some last minute errands. There was a slight panic at that announcement as he was wondering how to delay her leaving until his mother and Gloria arrived. Fortunately, they were early and showed up as she was putting her purse together.

"Oh, good, you're ready." Gloria said as she entered the kitchen from the back door, Laura right behind her. Halloran just looked at her like she had two heads.

"Ready for what?!" she exclaimed, eyes widening even more at the sight of her soon to be Mother in Law. " I need to do some last minute checks on stuff, I really don't have time to visit."

"Actually, you already have plans, Dear." Joe chimed in. After letting the ladies in, he had gone to the closet and grabbed the overnight bag and was handing it to Halloran, who took it automatically. "You are being whisked away for some self indulgence." He smiled at her. "And I am being whisked away for a night of beer, pizza and manly talk at the cabin."

"But!" she tried to argue.

"No Buts, young lady." Laura spoke up. "It's all arranged. Has been for weeks. And there are no refunds." She smiled to take the sting out of the ultimatum. "Besides, while you were in Chicago, I took care of any last minute things that came up. Which weren't many. Therefore you have no leg to stand on."

"Seriously, Babe, it's fine." Joe urged. "I am being picked up in about 2 hours myself. And it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding anyway. I'll see you in two days, when we are both rested, refreshed and ready to spend the rest of our lives together. Look at it this way, you now get out of having to wait on me hand and foot!"

Halloran finally allowed herself to relax at that comment, and even smiled a little wanly. "So basically, I have no choice?"

"None whatsoever" Gloria replied cheerfully. "Tell you the truth,I need this about as much as you do, maybe more. _You_ are just getting married. _Me_, on the other hand, am preparing for the most important test of my life."

"Fine!" Halloran gave up with a laugh. "I know when I am beat."

"That's my Girl." Joe said fondly as he kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Go. Have fun. I'll see you at the alter." He also gave his mother a peck but declined to take Gloria up on the offer for one as well, settling for a one handed hug instead. He followed them to the front door and stood on the porch waving until the car turned out of the driveway.

It was less than half an hour later when Frank arrived. "Thought you'd be here at 3?" Joe asked in surprise as he opened the door to the ringing of the door bell.

"Figured you'd need somebody to pack for you." Frank replied.

"Oh. Yeah. That. Good idea." Joe said sheepishly as he stepped aside to let his brother walk in.

Packing took no time at all, as the Tux had been hanging in the closet for a week and so was the bag that held the shoes and accessories. Under instruction, Frank tossed a pair of jeans and a button down shirt into that bag, along with Joe's shaving kit and spare underthings. "Oh, Phil called about an hour ago, Pam's in labor. So he sends his regrets." Frank said as he loaded the SUV. "That means Chet is riding with us now. Biff and Tony will be coming later, after Tony gets off work."

"Works for me." Joe replied affably.

Picking up Chet took no time at all as he was already outside the apartment waiting. He climbed into the back with his bag and directed them to the store where he picked up two 12 packs of Joe's favorite beer. Before 3, the three friends were on the road towards the cabin.

**A/n: **_I know I got a little morally high handed there for a bit, and I really toyed with the idea of cutting it altogether, but at the end of the day I wanted to show the world that my characters are, essentially, human. Joe has always been a little more morally on the straight and narrow when it comes to esoteric stuff( B&E not s much of course heheheh) and has strong opinions about doing the right thing.. such as as shoving aside his personal desires and trying to save Al-Rousasa. It is why he'd suck royally at a true government job, where obeying orders can be in conflict with conscience. _


	9. Chapter 8

**A/n:**_ PSA of the day: Better to crack your bicycle helmet than your head. Also, Road rash is quite nasty looking. Hubby got hit by a car yesterday. Luckily the only casualty is the helmet as the car was doing under 15 and slowing to take a turn. Still freaked me right the you know what out. _

**Chapter Eight**

Under cover of night, Mario Junior and his henchmen made their way to the back side of the brick building that housed the Hardy and Sons Detective Agency. Junior knew he'd have the entire weekend to implement his plan, as the news of Joe's wedding had been published in the weekly paper as a fairly decent sized article by a former classmate of the boys, Liz Webling. It caused minor consternation as the original plan had been to blow up both together, but ultimately he opted to go forward anyway. He'd figured he could just assassinate Joe at the funeral along with Fenton.

The siblings he had hired to do the job were twins. The only way he could tell them apart was by the length of their hair. The brother wore his in a greasy ponytail while the sister had hers cropped short in a pageboy. Both were nearly silent, speaking only in short sentences and rarely at that. As many twins seemed to do from an outsider's point of view, they appeared to be communicating with each other silently. They carried identical gym bags, each loaded with the equipment and supplies needed to install an incendiary device. Without waiting for instruction they got right to work, trusting that Junior had taken care of any alarms or other security issues. They worked methodically and carefully, being extremely precise in everything they did. It took several hours and it was well into the wee hours of the morning when they finished, but Junior chuckled evilly at the finished product.

"They won't know what hit them!" he chortled as he literally rubbed his hands together like a bad parody of Snidely Wiplash. The twins were less jovial but just as self satisfied. This was their tribute to their father, dead in the prison Fenton Hardy had sent him to. He paid them in cash as well as tickets for separate ways out of town. The sister was taking the train into NYC, where she was catching a flight to Rio. Her brother had a bus ticket to Philadelphia, from where he too was flying to Brazil.

Mario Junior went home and formally apologized to his father and publicly once again pledged his loyalty and obedience, all the while smirking inside. The truly delicious part was the bomb was untraceable once it went off. To any Arson Investigator, it would appear as if the fuse box shorted out, causing a fire that spread to the gas line. There would be no evidence left behind for the Police to find and launch a manhunt. It would all be chalked up to a tragic accident. He decided to twist the knife a little more and anonymously arranged for large funeral wreathes in the name of all three Hardy men to be delivered to whatever funeral home would be used.

Aldo Mazzola was equally busy, setting up two separate ambush spots along the road in anticipation of the brothers' return the next day. Each spot was a self contained zone, with their own weapon, getaway vehicle and other supplies located conveniently nearby where they would be accessible but unnoticed. Not knowing exactly when he could expect the car to pass by, and only knowing the time of the wedding, listed oh so helpfully in Mz. Webling's article, he set up an overnight camp at the first ambush spot. He'd knew he'd get no sleep, but was well prepared with hot coffee in a large thermos at the first location and energy drinks in the second, kept cold by freezing first then being stored in a small cooler. A couple of sandwiches and some granola bars in each location rounded out his preparations. He settled in for a long night, huddled under a sleeping bag draped over his shoulders and a small propane lantern illuminating the book he brought along to pass the time until the sun rose the next morning.

**A/n: **_Going forward I have decided to disallow guest reviews. If you cannot be bothered to create a profile and log in and then leave unhelpful critiques, I don't need the aggravation. If you are going to leave comments at least have the courtesy to allow rebuttal. To be fair, I will also disallow 'nice' anonymous reviews as well. I realize this may make my stories seem as if they are not being read, but since I ultimately do this for my own enjoyment I really don't care if feathers get ruffled. Yes its a pain to log in every ten days and yes the security protocols are a bit much. but if others can do it, so can you. _


	10. Chapter 9

**A/n: **_Random observation: large bruises on your husband's thigh begin to look like the continent of Africa once they start to get less road rashy and more splotchy. also, elbows begin to look very weird once the blood pool starts to shift. But, he can do pushups( necessary for next month's PRT) so he's sanguine. Get it.. sanguine..Anyone who watches Firefly gets the joke. Oh, yeah, and this is the 'cliff hanger' for this story. Only took me nine chapters...__  
_

**Chapter Nine**

As Bachelor Parties went, it was pretty tame. No nearly nude exotic dancers, no drunken debauchery, no one jumping out of cakes. But Joe Hardy couldn't have been happier. He was surrounded by friends old and new, and even had a surprise crasher in the form of his father, who brought along a few iphone pics of Baby Cohen. There was much non manly cooing over the infant as well as a lot of good natured ribbing towards Joe, with comments like "See what you have to look forward to!"

Fenton even added his own lighthearted warnings about 2 am feedings and diaper duty. Joe took it all in stride, once again threatening Frank with the arduous duty of being the guardian of the 3 dozen he expected to have. At that point, Mitch offered his services as babysitter, but only for a dozen at a time, and only the girls. That set everyone off into gales of laughter that were triggered by seemingly innocuous comments for the rest of the night. Cushions were rearranged to provide an impromptu bed of sorts for Fenton who had been easily persuaded to have several beers.

The next morning, they all pitched in chopping wood for the wood stove, making coffee and making the pancakes from the all in one mix Bruce and Mitch provided along with syrup. Of course Joe was not allowed anywhere near the pancake mix...

They ate well, still laughing and enjoying each others' company. But soon after the cleanup was completed, the party broke up, with Chet getting a lift back with Tony and Biff. Only Fenton stayed behind. It took about three seconds for Frank to realize that their father wanted to dispense a little wisdom so he rather transparently suggested that he start loading the trolley and made himself scarce.

Fenton smiled indulgently at Frank's not so subtle exit. Joe had been distracted by a lone slice of pizza that had somehow survived the previous evening, although it's time was certainly up now. He had plopped down on the well worn couch after returning all the cushions to their proper place and had his feet up on the table. He was leaning back, the half eaten slice in his lap, eyes closed but with a half smile on his face. The eldest Hardy spent several seconds just looking at his youngest child, and the smile softened to become rather tender.

Joe sensed he was being watched, though, and half opened one eye. "Yeeeees?" he intoned in an amused voice.

"Just wondering when you grew up and became an adult, is all." Fenton replied with a trace of nostalgia.

"According to many, I haven't as yet done so." The tone was light and mocking, but Fenton saw the brief flash of ..something.. in his son's sapphire blue eyes that told him it was a sore subject. Fenton opted to treat it lightly.

"Son, no matter how old you get you will always be your mother's little boy!" he chuckled as he sat down next to the child that was a (male) carbon copy of his mother.

Joe's return chuckle was a little rueful. "That's not who I meant and you know it." He sighed a little but the smile was gentle and forgiving. "It's more of a feeling I get when somebody says something. It's probably just me. But sometimes the teasing isn't so much fun any more."

"Your brother?" Fenton asked gently.

"Yes. No. Sometimes." Joe quickly shook his head in confusion. "I dunno." He sighed deeply. "It's probably all in my head anyway, self fulfilling prophesy and all that." Another sigh. "Sometimes I just wanna be taken seriously, instead of everybody assuming I'll make some immature crack."

"Even though you usually do?" Fenton cocked an eyebrow as he spoke sardonically.

Joe started to look offended, then quickly realized it was true. "Pot, meet Kettle? Is that what you're saying?" he sounded a little ashamed.

"I'm saying that sometimes you come across as Jekyl and Hyde." Fenton had come into the room prepared to dispense wisdom and advice pertaining to marriage and how to keep it fresh but was having to shift on the fly to offer insight into something else entirely. "In the field, you're professional, but in the office you still tend to spend as much time playing Spider Solitaire as you do writing reports. It doesn't matter that they get done and reasonably on time. You give the appearance of being cavalier about that aspect of the job." He didn't reveal his numerous admonishments to Frank who was constantly griping about the subject, telling Frank to lighten up as long as the work got done. "You tend to waltz in whenever you feel like it, and that irks your brother a lot. He feels as if he has to take up the slack." Suddenly Fenton had a thought. "Joseph, did you think getting married would suddenly make everyone treat you differently?"

Joe actually blushed. "I was hoping, yeah." He shifted on the couch, wincing as his broken wrist got jostled. "Guess I need to earn it though, huh?"

"I'm not suggesting you turn into a stick in the mud, your enthusiasm and attitude are good things to have. In moderation." Fenton urged. "Frank is too staid sometimes, and you prevent him from turning into a workaholic. But sometimes, professionalism is more appropriate than wisecracks." He hoped he was getting his point across without breaking his youngest son's spirit.

Joe pondered the words for a moment before looking sideways at his father.

"Any more pearls of wisdom, Father o' mine?" he sheepishly asked.

"Actually yes. I have several speeches that have been prepared for all sorts of momentous occasions." Fenton began slightly formally although his deep brown eyes twinkled merrily. "Would you like to hear the one about never going to bed angry first, or the one about never taking her for granted?"

"Trust me, Dad, I learned my lesson after Iola." Joe's voice broke just the barest hint when he said her name. "Anything more knowledge you can dispense?"

"Hmm. Well I _do_ have a very lovely one about not being shy about showing her you love her in public, but I was sort of saving that one for your brother." It was no secret that Frank was far more reserved when it came to the 'mushy stuff' when around others, while Joe was far less worried about it. Joe grinned at that. "Oh! I know" Fenton sat up straight. "The one about knowing when and how much to tell her about how close you came to dying." He sobered now, and shifted so he was facing his son directly. Even Joe lost the grin and nodded somberly.

"It's a very fine line, Son, between telling the truth and causing needless worry. You have to make a judgement call, and it will change every time, about what you think she can and cannot handle. Sometimes it's better to get yelled at _after_ the fact about what to tell her. And for goodness' sake don't gloss over it either, that's just as bad as broadcasting every grisly detail." Fenton shook his head at some long ago transgression and remembered the tongue lashing he got from both Laura and Gertrude.

"Dad, you know how much sadness and tragedy she's had. I don't wanna add to it" Joe protested.

"A solid marriage is built on Trust and Honesty, Joe. And that means in all things, not just the ones that are convenient or easy. You _will_ scare her. You _will_ upset her. And she will do the same to you. No matter how hard you try not to, it will happen; probably unintentionally, but it will. But the minute you start hiding things, no matter how legitimate you think your reasons are, it starts to escalate. Before too long it will be too easy to do, and then she will wonder what _else_ you are keeping from her." He paused, waiting for the words to sink in before continuing. "Sometimes, it's better to beg forgiveness after the fact. You don't have to tell her right away, but you do have to come clean. About everything. Except where you hide her Birthday present. That you can keep to yourself, no matter how much she begs." Fenton smiled conspiratorially then.

"Or anything related to National Security." Joe said it with a knowing grin, but both of them knew there was a more than decent chance that could eventually be a possibility.

"Lucky for you, Halloran has her own National Security concerns and will understand when you have to be circumspect." Fenton replied easily.

"Did anybody ever tell you you were pretty smart?" Joe asked his father fondly. "I mean, for an old guy." he couldn't resist teasing. He leaned over and hugged his parent with one arm. "Thanks, dad."

"Any time, son. Just don't tell your brother what I said. I don't want to have to rewrite all my speeches." Fenton grinned as he returned the hug before standing up. "But I really need to be going. Apparently I have been volunteered to decorate."

By this time Frank had completed 2 runs back to the car and the SUV was loaded with everything but their gym bags of clothes and the bags of garbage and recyclables that were going to be loaded the next morning as they left for the wedding. Fenton gave both his sons one last hug before wagging a finger in Joe's direction. "I expect you to be _on time_ for a change. In fact, I think you really need to aim for _early_ for once in your life."

"Yes, Dad." Joe's smile was unrepentant. "That's what Frank is for, he's my built in alarm clock. Tell Halloran I swear I will be at the altar on schedule and that nothing will keep me away from her."

Fenton leaned into Frank's ear and whispered loudly enough for Joe to hear. "Make that 2 hours early. Can't be too careful!" with a final wink, he took off down the path toward his own car.

Since Joe was pretty much useless when it came to chores, he suggested that they drive into town for dinner and that he would even pay for once. Frank, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth especially when it came to Joe spending money, let alone on food, immediately accepted and wasted no time, hoping to avoid any possible reneging on his brother's part.

The diner was busy that evening, it was apparently the town meeting hall. A few of the locals called out congratulations and well wishes to Joe with requests that they be passed on to Halloran as well. Bernice added her own sentiments and insisted that pie and coffee was on her.

They stopped by the Minimart attached to the gas station on their way back and grabbed another 6 pack and some chips and dip for a late night snack. Joe was bouncing off the walls in anticipation and happiness and Frank was helplessly drawn into the enthusiasm. But unlike his father, who offered sage advice, Frank was unable to start any real meaningful conversation. If he had been forced into a confession, he might have admitted he was feeling a little..melancholy. Although he adored Halloran, and firmly believed she was good for Joe in many ways, he couldn't help but feel a little sad that their brotherly relationship was once again undergoing a permanent change. But he was not about to let his brother see he was feeling sorry for himself, so he firmly quashed any gloomy thoughts that threatened to pop up all evening.

But Joe surprised him by declaring he wanted to hit the sack early; it was barely 10 pm. "I thought maybe we could get on the road and stop for breakfast along the way. Lord knows we won't have time to eat again until dinner!" Frank agreed and flipped him for the bed. Joe lost and no amount of puppy dog eyes or pointed hints about being the Groom or an invalid made any difference. However, Frank did let him have the extra pillow to support his wrist.

The next morning, Frank was woken up by the smell of freshly brewing coffee. With a start, he realized it was barely sunrise as he scrambled out of bed and hastily threw on a pair of jeans. Joe greeted him with a far too chipper "Hiya, Big Bro!" and a cup brimming with caffeine goodness.

"Who are you and what have you done with my Baby Brother, the one who sleeps till noon?!" he growled in mock suspicion even as he grinned widely.

"I am his evil twin Skippy. I have kidnapped Joe and tossed him into the outhouse as I intend to marry the Fair Maiden myself and experience her charms to the fullest." This was said with a very serious and even threatening manner that was totally ruined by the bright floral apron slung over his bare chest and bedhead full of tangled blond curls.

After two cups of coffee each, and meticulously putting out all fires, they were on their way. Both were casually dressed until after breakfast, which was in a hotel restaurant about 45 minutes outside of Calverton. Frank chose the spot as it also had a workout facility complete with fully loaded locker rooms. He paid the day fee to use the amenities and they took showers and changed into their tuxes. He had to admit, Joe looked drop dead handsome in the modern cut jacket that showed off his broad shoulders quite nicely. Not to be outdone, he couldn't help but notice he got just as many admiring looks from the ladies in the airy reception area as Joe had. (_Blondes may have more fun, but there ain't nothin' wrong with being tall dark and handsome_) he smirked to himself as he overheard Joe quoting "_Bond; James Bond._" under his breath.

"Are you ready, 007?" he smirked to Joe. "I did sort of promise Dad I'd get you there early."

"Get me there too early and I might get cold feet and bail." Joe tried to argue. "I mean if I have too much time to think about it I might panic." he looked so earnest that for almost a half second Frank actually considered thinking he was serious. But then he caught that all too familiar evil sparkle in sapphire eyes and he just shook his head resignedly.

"Get in the car Brat." he chuckled affectionately. "Wonder if I can start a new wedding tradition. Instead of giving the bride away maybe we can give you away instead!"

They were making great time. The weather was perfect, the roads were remarkably empty and by Frank's calculations, helped along by the GPS unit which was counting down their journey, they were well on track to make the Church with a good 45 minutes to spare. Joe had just reached over to change the dial on the car radio..for the fourth time in ten minutes.. when Frank suddenly felt a shudder through the steering wheel and he lost control of the Impala, headed straight towards the guardrail and the very large drop on the other side.

**A/n: ** _Currently working on the final chapter( plus epilogue as I thought maybe you'd be all upset if the last chapter was not from the boy's POV. ) it's slow going for some reason, I can't seem to find a way to wrap it up while at the same time not wrapping it up. If I get it done this week, I may be extra super nice and post M-W-F next week just so I can then relax and concentrate on the myriad of things I have to deal with next month. __  
_


	11. Chapter 10

**A/n: ** _The slightest of departures here, while still being within my self imposed constraints. No sign of the boys, but the bad guys aren't the only ones you get to see. I realize that these chapters from the BG point of view jump further ahead and when you next see the boys it's a back track of sorts, but when you factor in I am only wanting to show you the BG in specific instances, you will hopefully realize they don't have as much to say. Also, it extends the cliff hanger from Ch 9 that much longer bwahahahah_

**Chapter Ten**

Aldo Mazzola congratulated himself on his choice of ambush locations. On a secluded stretch of the only road that led into Bayport from this direction, he picked two spots that were on curves in areas miles from civilization. He only wished they were also cell phone dead zones, but those were becoming ever more rare. He compensated by bringing along a scanner where he kept a close ear on the emergency frequencies. Even if Hardy survived the crash he would be causing by shooting out the tire, Mazolla would hear any 911 call made and be able to act accordingly.

He allowed himself the luxury of sleeping from 10 pm til just after 5 am, which gave him plenty of time to set up the high powered sniper rifle. He settled in and forced himself to stay relaxed. His patience was rewarded just before 930 am when the sound of a well tuned sports car reached his ears before it was within sight. It was only the second car to pass by since he had laid down behind the rifle at 530. Using the scope, he easily recognized the Impala and a yellow, feral grin appeared as he noted the second person in the car. The fact that Frank Hardy was driving caused him only a second's hesitation. He knew the elder brother had less experience driving the car and was therefore not as in tune with its handling. He was betting it would be harder to keep control once the tire blew.

With Joe being in the passenger seat and thus closer to him, Mazolla briefly considered going for the head shot, but discarded that thought almost immediately. That wouldn't cause the car to crash and he could not take the chance that Frank might survive. He took aim and gently squeezed the trigger just as the car was reaching the curve. He kept his eye on the sight and followed the car around the curve until it disappeared out of his view. He waited an eternity for the tell tale sound of metal crunching or brakes squealing; but after three minutes there was nothing and he had to conclude he had failed. He swiftly stood and raced to the small motor bike he had concealed earlier and drove it over the the ridge to his next spot, having timed the distance between his prior location and this one to be 30 minutes by car, but by his route he made it in just over 15. That gave him plenty of time to get situated in this new spot. The entire time time he kept an ear glued to the scanner, and couldn't decide whether to be glad there was no call about a car accident on Route 53 or not.

Using a sniper rifle identical to the one he had left at the other location, he resumed the same position, deciding to wait an hour to see if the Impala made an appearance. 90 minutes later, there was no sign of the car, no chatter on any emergency frequency and no sound of sirens rushing to the scene of a bad car accident. Furthermore not a single other car had traveled in either direction. Aldo concluded, therefore, that the car had missed the guardrail completely and gone straight over the cliff. He knew he would be unable to visually confirm this though, due to the possibility of leaving behind evidence such as tire tracks or other clues to indicate someone arrived and had not rendered any aid. Rather reluctantly, he packed up everything and went to report to Vincente his probable success.

Sam Radley was woken up at the ungodly hour of 8 am on Sunday. He had gone to bed extremely late the night before having stayed til the very end of the reception, which had been temporarily suspended due to a power outage that lasted about 45 minutes after a very strong storm blew through town during the ceremony itself. There were many jokes about omens among the guests, but the bride and groom took it all in stride and invited everyone to come to the spot they had chosen to get their wedding pictures taken. By the time that was done, word had come back that the banquet hall had power and was ready for them.

As he stumbled down the stairs blearily, telling Ethel to stay in bed, he groused "I'm coming already!" as the doorbell was joined by insistent pounding. "Sheesh." Throwing open the door, ready to ream out whoever it was, he stopped mid growl at the interloper. He stood there, gaping until she pushed past him into the hallway.

Spinning around, Joanna hissed in a low voice that was positively reeking with fear "How's your bomb defusing skills?!"

Sam shook his head to clear the almost hangover that was threatening to invade. "That's more Frank's territory than mine. Why do you ask?" already suspecting he really didn't want to know.

"Went by the office this morning. I wanted some peace and quiet, the kids are driving me insane and Jim was going to be busy all day working on the yard. Figured I'd get some paperwork done." Joanna had calmed down a fraction, but her eyes were still nervous. "Of course the storm knocked out the power there and all the breakers were tripped, so I went down into the basement to reset them." she took out her cell phone and held it out. "I found _this_ attached to the box."

Sam gingerly took the proffered phone and gasped at the slightly out of focus picture she had taken.

"Holy shit." he breathed, going pale.

"I ran out of there and straight here. There is no way in hell I am going to bother a single Hardy about this right now." she still spoke quietly.

"Probably a smart move. Let me make a phone call." He ran upstairs and pulled on a pair of slacks and tossed a polo shirt on even as he soothed Ethel back into slumber. As he came back down stairs he was already dialing. "Con. I really hate to call you at this hour but we got a problem." he quickly described Joanna's discovery and even had her email the picture to the chief of Police's phone. "I think we need to keep this extra quiet. As in let's **not** tell Fenton or the boys. Joe doesn't need his honeymoon ruined."

Con agreed, his own post wedding reception hangover immediately replaced by a crisis induced headache that was just as bad. He instructed the two to meet him and the bomb squad at the Agency in 15 minutes. Once off the phone with Sam, he got to work, making phones calls in between getting dressed. He told Lt Matthesen of EOD to do this on the down low. "Unmarked vehicle, no lights or sirens. Stealthy, got it? I'll meet you there." Upon hearing the affirmative, he hung up and made his way to his car and drove right to the Agency, thanking the powers that be that it was quiet on the streets and he didn't need to announce his presence.

By the time he arrived, everyone else had as well. Matthesen had indeed took his instructions to heart, none of his people were in uniform, although he knew all the safety gear would be in the back of the nondescript black panel van he was casually leaning against. "Have you seen it?" Con Riley asked crisply as he stepped out of his car.

"Yup. Rigged to blow via timer mid morning on Monday. Big enough to destroy the entire building." When he heard that, Sam swore under his breath, suddenly all too aware that not three weeks earlier, Phil and Pam Cohen had moved out of the apartment upstairs in anticipation of her giving birth. Pam had been telecommuting since her pregnancy had been wrought with very severe morning sickness and her doctor advised that she decrease her workload. If they were still living there, the casualty list would have included innocents, not counting anyone who happened to be walking by when it blew.

"Can you disarm it?" was all he said, albeit tensely.

"Yup. I recognized the design. It's a Hollister."

When he heard the name, Sam's swearing reached audible levels. Joanna just looked at him blankly until he explained. "Fenton put Paul Hollister away years ago. His specialty was blowing up safes. His two kids followed in their old man's footsteps and when Dear Old Dad died in prison..." he broke off at Joanna's understanding nod.

"Swore revenge. Gotcha." She looked at Sam. "Do we call Fenton now?"

"Nope. He's retired anyway. I wanna take care of this first. Present it as a _fait accompli_. No need to get hm worked up, or Frank. You and I can do this. Shouldn't take too long to corner the rats." He turned to Con who was quietly discussing the plan with Matthesen. "Any chance of some help, Con?"

"Of course. Anything you need, the Department's resources are all yours."

A tense couple of hours were spent with Matthesen and his team painstakingly disarming the bomb while a nervous Sam, Joanna and Con waited outside and out of blast radius. Con had also quietly brought in the Fire department. "Just in case." but the EOD expert eventually came outside with a smile on his tired face.

"Got it. My boys are bagging it now." Audible sighs of relief all around competed with words of thanks. Matthesen shrugged it off, saying "All in a days' work. Hey Chief is it okay if the boys take tomorrow off?!" he grinned at his boss. "Or you could just pay us all overtime for coming in on a weekend..." he trailed off in amusement.

"Thought you were on call 24/7/365?!" Con retorted before grinning himself and giving his okay.

Three days later, Sam and Joanna had tracked down the Hollister siblings to Rio and amazingly enough got no grief at all from local authorities who are all too willing to help the _Americanos_ apprehend the siblings who had extensive Interpol dossiers. Sam flew down alone as Joanna was unable to find a last second babysitter on three hours' notice, although she did suggest bringing up the possibility of hiring a nanny and billing it to the Agency as part of her expense account. The raid was painless and brother and sister were taken with little fuss. But that is where the good luck streak ended. Despite being taken separately and having no interaction, neither Hollister talked.. at all. No amount of questioning got Sam anywhere, or the Interpol agent from Italy who invited herself along to see if she could persuade the Americans to let her have them instead, over a high profile and deadly bomb that killed several bank employees and customers a few years earlier.

Eventually, Sam called Fenton from Rio and broke the news, asking for his opinion. After some thought, Fenton decided to let Interpol have their crack. "They failed to get their revenge, and that's better than any jail time we could impose. Interpol is a lot less forgiving. But when you get back I expect a full report and a damn good explanation as to why you never even told Frank!" Properly chagrined, Sam promised to 'fess all when he returned.

**A/n: **_and at least one crisis averted. but will the Impala survive?! Remember what I did to Joe's Mustang...See you on Tuesday! _


	12. Chapter 11

**A/n: **_If you want the short version of this chapter, go and read "Get Me to the Church on Time". and yes it is Monday, not Tuesday. you are getting a chapter a day early. try to contain your enthusiasm. the last chapter still isn't done yet so unless I get it finished by the time I post the second to last chapter, you could be waiting weeks for the end. _

**Chapter Eleven**

"Hang on!" Frank screamed as he fought to maintain control of the car. Joe braced himself with his good arm and closed his eyes. When the seconds ticked by with no sounds of crunching metal, he cautiously opened one back up. Another second later and he followed with the other eye, turning his head to stare at his brother. Just past Frank's trembling head, all Joe saw was clear sky. Craning his neck a little he looked past his brother and gulped as he realized they were no more than 3 inches from the guard rail.

"What was that?!" he asked shakily.

"Think we blew a tire. You're going to have to get out so I can crawl out your side." Frank replied, equally shaken. Slowly Joe unhooked the seat belt and slid out of the seat gingerly, shuddering as he he glanced at the right rear tire that was completely shredded. "Woah." he breathed incredulously. "What the hell did you run over?!"

By this time Frank was out of the car himself and already moving to the trunk to pull out the jack and spare tire. "No idea. Do we have a signal?" he asked as he lugged the tire out from the well.

Joe checked and breathed a silent sigh of relief when he saw that he had almost a full bar. "Yeah. Dad, or somebody else?" he asked.

"Make it Dad. No need to worry the ladies. This won't take me long at all." Frank assured his brother. Joe tried to get through, but their father never answered. "Ugh. He's not picking up. Should I just text?"

Frank was grunting curse words at the stubborn lug nut that refused to give. "Yeah. I don't think he even knows how to check voicemail." Joe chuckled at that and obediently sent a text. And then he silently added a second text to Gloria's phone. Just in case.

It was slow going. All the lug nuts were practically rusted in place. Frank had immediately removed his tux jacket but was in no mood to get rid of the cummerbund or bow tie to remove his shirt. Both took entirely too damn long to put on in the first place. He sighed in resignation and hoped the jacket would hide all the sweat stains and grease spots that were inevitable. He also really wanted to ask his brother for help but knew that Joe would be less than useless. And he was just _waiting_ for Joe to become obnoxious. He knew it was coming.

"Fraaaank." Joe's whiny voice cut through the haze of concentration as he attempted to manhandle the last two lug nuts. (_I knew it. Here it comes._)

"Yes, Joe" he responded with a mental sigh as he _knew_ what the next words out of his brother's mouth would be.

"Are you done yet?" Joe's voice was lightly teasing as he channeled his inner 6 year old. Frank looked up to glare at his brother and was not surprised to see the big grin.

"Almost." Frank refused to rise to the bait. Unfortunately, Joe was never one to give up too soon and the next five minutes were a succession of 'Are you done yet' s every 15 seconds. Eventually even Frank's bottomless patience wore out.

"I would finish a lot faster if you would quit asking me if I am finished every 4 seconds." he retorted, exasperated.

"Sorry" Joe's pout was a little too theatrical to be genuine. It was less than a minute later when he started up again. "Frank?" all innocence and puppy dawg eyes.

Frank banged his head against the rim. (_Must. Not. Kill. The Groom. ) _"What is it, Joe?!" he sighed in a long suffering tone.

"You know I'd offer to help if I could, right?" Joe's voice was positively dripping with sweet earnestness.

(_Okay now he's just being a brat_) "Yes, Joe I know." the last lug nut absolutely refused to come off and when Frank lost his grip on the tire iron again, he lost it momentarily.

"It's just, I have this thing on my arm."

(_That tears it._) "Joe." Frank ground out from behind tightly clenched teeth.

"Yes Frank?" Joe chirped entirely too happily.

"If you do not shut up and let me finish I will take this tire iron and break your _other_ arm." Frank turned the full force of his 'I Have Had Enough' glare on his younger sibling, who had the sense to realize he was _really_ pushing his luck.

"Yes Frank." and for a solid three minutes of total blissful silence, Frank was able to concentrate on the task at hand. But all too soon, the silence was broken. "Frank?"

"_Whatisit Joe?!_" Frank growled in a guttural voice that left no room for misinterpretation. After a moment, he looked up to see Joe offering a water bottle with a look on his face that was almost but not quite contrition.

"Umm, I thought you might need a drink." Frank had the grace to be ashamed of the not so nice thoughts he had been harboring as he thanked Joe and took a long swig, draining the bottle in one go. A minute later, it started all over again. "Frank?"

Frank sighed deeply knowing he should not respond in any way and thus encourage his brother in his little escapade. "What Joe?" he couldn't help himself.

"Are you almost done yet?" Joe asked. Before he could finish the question, though, Frank pelted him as hard as he could with the empty water bottle. "What was that for?!" Joe sputtered in indignation.

"Be grateful it wasn't the tire iron." Frank retorted with an air of self satisfaction.

Joe harrumphed in wounded pride. "I was just curious is all." he pouted.

"Be curious inside the car." Frank was done playing games. They had been there at least 45 minutes which meant they were now going to be arriving late. He needed to get this done with no more distractions of any sort and if his brother had to deal with a few hurt feelings, oh well.

Joe sulked. "Fine. Be that way." he stalked up to the front of the car and dramatically made a show of plopping into the seat in a fit of petulance. Now he was getting worried and he had _promised_ Halloran that nothing would go wrong. He sat there, playing with his cell phone when it suddenly rang. "Hey Gloria. Frank's still working on the tire. No I don't know how much longer he'll be. He's kinda in a bad mood, so I thought I'd leave him alone for a while." He winced as Gloria's voice came over the airwaves demanding to speak to her boyfriend.

With a sigh and a deep sense of foreboding, Joe left the car and stood in front of his brother, who studiously ignored him as he wrestled with the final lug nut. "Frank?" Joe asked, very softly. He repeated his brother's name after a moment when it became obvious there would be no reply. "Umm, Gloria is on the cell and she is wondering where we are."

"We are in the middle of nowhere." Frank spat out. Joe repeated that to Gloria and then winced a little as he got further instructions.

"She'd like to know if we will be there on time." Joe spoke earnestly, knowing that the time for jokes and sarcasm was past. He also knew that Frank's unlimited patience was rapidly running out.

Frank stood up and stuck out a grease covered hand. "Give me the phone." he snatched it out of Joe's grasp and didn't wait for her to speak first. "Gloria. Tell Halloran I am working as fast as I can to fix the tire. I am tired, I am drenched in sweat and I _cannot _fix the damn thing if I keep getting interrupted!" He tossed the phone back without waiting for an answer. Joe softly said goodbye and asked her to keep Hall from freaking out any more than she already had.

"Let me call Dad." Joe finally pleaded, well and truly upset at the turn of events. "He'll come get us."

(_oh sure, now he suggests it._) "No Joe. The last bolt is off and by the time he gets here I can have the new tire on." Frank was exhausted, but determined to finish what he had started.

Joe was beginning to feel massively guilty about not being able to help. "Frank?" he asked softly, pleadingly. Frank looked up and the sarcastic comment died on his lips.

"What, Joe?" There may have been no sarcasm, but he was still pointedly at the end of his rope and visibly trying to not let his temper explode.

"I'm sorry." Joe said it so softly and heartbreakingly that Frank very nearly forgave him on the spot.

"What are you sorry for?"

"For not being able to help."

Frank looked at him, and suddenly had a thought. ( _right. I'd still have been roped into all the work since you would have used the excuse of being the Groom to stay neat and tidy_.) he grinned mentally at the scenario, knowing Joe would have pulled that stunt and decided to get some payback. "It's okay Joe. Besides, you would have been more hinderance than help anyway."

"Hey now!" Joe gasped, all mock affronted as he allowed himself the luxury of a little less panic, seeing as how the spare tire was finally on and Frank was tightening the lug nuts. As he stood there, watching frank systematically go around the circumference, he couldn't help himself. He _knew _ he was on thin ice but just could not resist one last time. "Frank?"

( _Do. Not. Answer. You do not want to know what the question is. You really don't_) Frank thought to himself as he shut his eyes and allowed himself to be sucked into the drama anyway. "Yes Joe?"

"Are you done yet?"

( _I am going to kill you, Little Brother. Nothing can save you now. _) As it happened, Frank _was _ done but rather than answering, he chose to stand up straight and slap his brother upside the head as hard as he could. Without a word, he grabbed the tire iron and tossed it into the back seat, and slammed shut the trunk. He slid into the driver's seat by way of the passenger side, just as he had exited over an hour earlier. Suitably chastised, Joe meekly took his spot as Frank turned the ignition and slowly pulled away from the guard rail. The rest of the drive was spent in stony silence on Frank's part, who was unmoved at every attempt by Joe to apologize or break the tension. When he reached over and turned the volume on the all talk radio station way up, Joe finally took the hint and lapsed into silence the rest of the way, curled up into a small ball facing the window.

Frank kept glancing over though, and eventually his heart melted enough to respond to the utter despondency on his brother's face. They had lost all the lead time that had been built in when they had taken off from the cabin that morning, and then some, so Frank unobtrusively pressed down on the gas pedal and within minutes they were speeding along the thankfully deserted highway at 75 miles an hour. If Joe noticed, he was still too cowed to say anything about it although he mentioned at one point that he had texted Gloria and said they were on their way.

Which meant they were only half an hour late by the time they pulled up in front of the church. Fenton was pacing back and forth along the sidewalk and visibly sagged in relief as the Impala pulled up to the curb. "Frank, you look filthy. Go see if your mother can do something about that shirt."

"Okay Dad." Frank listlessly took off in the direction his father had indicated.

Fenton turned to his younger child. "Joseph, at least you look presentable for once." he smiled in relief that they had made it, even if they were a little late. At least the Officiant was understanding and there was nothing else scheduled in the church until evening mass at 6. "Get inside before lightening strikes you or something." he half joked. He left Joe in the small ante room that had been set aside for his use and went to inform the guests that the Groom had finally arrived and the ceremony would be beginning shortly.

Joe paced nervously back and forth in the small room. He wasn't sure his brother would even speak to him at the moment, let alone stand up for him as his Best Man. (_ So much for my vow to act my age and shit. You blew it, Hardy. You've ruined the best day of your life by pushing Frank's buttons one too many times.) _He blew out a breath in frustration and abject sadness. He wanted to enjoy this day with his brother, not have to spend it apologizing and being contrite, which would ruin everything for Halloran when the obvious tension between them was noticed as it inevitably would be.

Meanwhile, Frank had been subjected to the tender ministrations of his mother and the slightly less tender ones of the Maid of Honor. He had been forced to remove the shirt ( and thus the bow tie and cummerbund) after all but it was quickly replaced with a plain white dress shirt that Gloria had magically produced. He recognized it as one of his 'courtroom appearance' shirts and assumed that somebody had run over to his apartment and grabbed it. The bow tie was swiftly returned to it's former jauntiness courtesy of his mother, but no amount of Mom Magic could disguise the smudge of grease on his cummerbund. Luckily with the tux jacket buttoned closed it was barely visible. He was worn out mentally and physically and began to feel as if he was ruining his brother's day by having been so short with him earlier.

Laura and Gloria each noticed his reticence but chose to ignore it as they made him presentable. "You'll do." Gloria said as she looked him up one side and down the other. "You get Joe and I'll get Halloran." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "And for goodness' sake hurry!. I don't think we can weather any more disruptions!" He actually smiled at that, if a bit wanly and went in search of his brother.

He found Joe pacing nervously back and forth. "Joe." he said almost too low to be heard. Joe jumped about six inches in the air and spun around, all nervous energy. At the best of times he couldn't sit still, now he was practically shooting sparks. "Frank!" he shouted excitedly.

"Are you ready?" Frank asked, a trifle worriedly. To his eyes, Joe looked like he was about to bolt.

He needn't have worried. Joe's face lit up with the biggest smile he had ever seen, no sarcasm or mischievousness to be found, only a happiness Frank once thought was forever extinguished. "Hell yeah!" in fact he was itching to get out there and behold his Bride. Suddenly Frank choked up. His baby brother was getting married and he got all emotional about it. Joe noticed it and his face fell. "Frank? What is it?" for an awful second Joe thought his brother wasn't as happy about things as he had always maintained.

Frank swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled tenderly. "I love you Little Brother, you know that?" forgotten was the aggravation he endured earlier. All he saw was his kid brother about to embark on a new life's journey and he once again thanked the heavens that they had moved past other issues and made it to this moment in time.

Joe was relieved and happy and overwhelmed at the emotion he heard on his brother's voice. It was going to be okay. "I love you too, Big Brother." Seldom had the boys said so in so many words. Joe showed his affection in actions, Frank in other, more subtle ways.

Frank leaned in and gave Joe one of those hugs that said it all. "I am really happy for you!" his throat constricted with love and pride.

"I'm happy for me too!" Joe joked, needing to break the intimate spell before it threatened to overwhelm them both. He wanted to save the sappy stuff for the ceremony.

"Let's not keep the bride waiting any longer then." Frank smiled fondly at his brother, who returned the look.

"Good idea." Joe straightened his tux and ran a nervous hand through his tousled blond curls. "Frank?" he asked as he glanced down.

"Yes Joe?"

"Is that a grease stain on your cummerbund?" He nimbly leaped out of the way as Frank growled at him and made to wrap his hands around his brother's neck. They laughed together as they left the room and made their way to the altar.

The next hour was a big blur to Joe. He vaguely recalled being positioned at the proper place and forcibly turned to face the long aisle when the music began. The minute she came into view, everything else faded away. His vision constricted and all he saw was her. Years later when asked to recount the day, all he could do was shrug and pull out the DVD recording. He literally remembered nothing except the look on Halloran's face the entire time. She was radiant, her smile blinding him to all else. Somehow he managed to say the right words at the right time and not embarrass himself completely. He vividly heard the Officiant say "You may kiss the bride" and wasted no time at all doing just that. He leaned in, lips soft and tender and started off gently but as the seconds grew the kiss became more passionate and demanding. Just as they were both about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, a bolt of lightening blazed in the sky perfectly framed by the huge glass window behind the altar and was followed just about simultaneously with a clap of thunder so loud everyone jumped in their seats in shock.

"Guess that's my cue to stop?" he whispered conspiratorially to his wife (_My WIFE!_) who giggled and then gasped as all the lights in the church flickered and went out. Luckily there were plenty of lit candles on the altar and in the niches around the walls that housed a saint or two. They giggled together at the timing of it all and tuned to face the crowd before them who were oblivious to the fact the lights were out as a hundred flashes went off as pictures and videos were taken as Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Aaron Hardy were presented for the first time.

Husband and wife practically skipped down the aisle together amidst shouts of congratulations. Frank and Gloria followed a little more sedately, although the look Frank was giving Gloria as they walked arm in arm behind the couple gave her a little shiver. (_Its just the atmosphere, Glo_) she told herself. _(everybody gets all mushy and stuff at weddings. It doesn't mean anything. You barely know each other!_) She returned the look a little shyly. (_ah, what the hell. Six months is plenty of time to get to know someone )_

The photographer was eager to get started on the pictures; unlike most others he _did_ have another job to get to that evening. So the crush of people milling about just chit chatting afterward was cut short as he started ordering the Bridal Party and the family to start posing. Laura had called the banquet hall in response the frantic message left on her cell that had been turned off during the ceremony. When she found out the hall was also out of power there was a minor panic and she was afraid to break the bad news. Joe, however, took it in stride and never even let Halloran start to freak out. "No biggie, Mom. We'll just bring everyone along to the spot we are getting the portraits done! It'll be great!" and he proceeded to tell Frank exactly that, who then got up on the altar and shushed everyone so that he could make the announcement.

The Bridal Party got into the Limo, Biff drove the Impala and everyone else followed behind to the Park where a few stately oaks and an old Cupola provided the backdrop for a variety of candid and posed shots. By the time the photographer finished, news had come down that the power had been restored and while dinner would be an hour late, the banquet hall was providing an open bar for that lost time. Everyone piled once again into limos and cars and headed to the hall.

**A/n: **_Was that a satisfactory resolution to the cliff hanger? Next chapter will be Wednesday unless I get seriously inspired and can finish the last chapter today. in which case I will post again tomorrow. _


	13. Chapter 12

**A/n: **_Okay, the ugly truth of the matter is, Chapter 13( the final chapter) is still not done. It's mostly done, I think I literally have just a few paragraphs to get through. But I am posting Ch 12 on time anyway. Friday it may be late afternoon before I post 13, but somehow, I will get it finished between now and then. _

**Chapter Twelve**

Sunday morning dawned brightly, one of those overly sunny days that follow heavy storms where the sun is too yellow and the sky is too blue. Mario Vincente started his day as he did every Sunday, with a pot of freshly brewed Jamaican Blue Mountain Blend coffee, a soft boiled egg, two slices of rye toast lightly buttered, a bowl of seasonal fresh fruit, and the paper. Or more accurately, several papers, including both the New York Times and the Bayport Gazette. His order of reading never varied either. First the Obituaries, then the Stock Market, then the local news, followed by the Crossword puzzle. He never got to the crossword this particular Sunday. He idly gave a cursory glance at the headlines of each section of the paper, pausing to read an article that intrigued him.

It was on the front page of the society section of the Bayport Gazette. In prime view, above the fold, was a striking picture of Bayport's most recent newlyweds. He snarled as he sat straight up, knocking over the bone china coffee cup as he reached blindly for the phone at his side. "Bring me Mazolla. _**Now**_." He did not wait for an answer before slamming the phone down.

Less than ten minutes later, Aldo Mazolla was hastily escorted into Vincente's presence. "Care to explain _**this, **amico mio_?!" he snarled, all previous affability he had ever presented to his underling absent. At first confused, and a little out of it due to fatigue, Mazolla took a long minute to focus on the picture that was thrust in his face. When he finally made sense of what he was seeing, he blanched and staggered a good three steps back.

"_Capo_..." he began but stopped abruptly as his boss slammed both hands on the table, this time causing the coffee mug to fall and shatter on the floor. He cursed himself silently for assuming without verifying. For the first time in decades, he began to fear for his own life. One did not fail Mario Vincente without consequences. Not even one of the Mafia's most feared enforcers was immune to the code. He knew he had no excuse and his only hope of salvaging his life was to face the wrath with dignity. Taking a deep breath, he spread his hands in an imploring gesture and basically begged for his life. "_Signor_, I have no answer that can be justified. I made an error in assuming that because I did not hear any call for help, there was no one left alive. I chose to not visually confirm that the car went over the cliff. I beg your forgiveness. I will not be so careless in the future."

"No. You will not." Vincente's voice was brittle. "The matter is closed henceforth. You will not pursue it. Am I clear?!" The glare that accompanied the words left nothing to the imagination. Vincente's word was Law. Retribution would not be forthcoming. Still cursing himself bitterly, Aldo Mazolla nodded once and quickly turned and left his Master's presence before he would be ordered to atone for his failure in a more permanent manner. He knew he would need to be on his guard for many weeks, in case Vincente ordered his removal.

Mario Junior, meanwhile, was walking around all self satisfied and smug. He laughed evilly at the Bayport Gazette's society page's headline, taking the time to gloat privately. "Enjoy it while you can, young Hardy. Soon enough you will be mourning your brother and father. She's pretty enough. Perhaps I will take her as well and make you watch before I end your pathetic existence." All day he was quite pleased with himself and more than one person who saw him that day commented that he looked like the cat who had not just the canary but the cream too.

Monday came, as Mondays must do to the annoyance of most of the adult population. Bayport went about it's business. Shops opened, mail was delivered, lives were lived. The fire department had a busy day, being called to three different small brush fires that had gotten out of control when careless homeowners tried to save themselves the chore of bagging the fall leaves. The local volunteer EMT squad was also busy with several 'difficulty breathing' calls, one bona fide heart attack and a series of minor injuries ranging from a sprained ankle at the playground to a head injury at the skating park. Junior spent the day glued to the emergency scanner that was standard equipment for most criminals, the better to listen in on the cops. At first he was eager, focusing all his attention on every crackle of static that permeated the air. But as the day wore on, his mind began to wander and it became more background white noise than anything else. He got caught up in the minutiae of running a crime business, taking inspiration for his daily routine from Tony Soprano. He'd even gone so far as to purchase a pair of ducks and moved them into his pool.

As Mondays eventually do despite their inherent evil, the day ended. With a start, Junior realized that he must have missed the 'announcement' and was furious with himself, having wanted to pop a bottle of champagne at the appropriate time. He made it a point to go out of his way on the drive home so as to pass by the Agency, fully expecting to see police tape and a blocked view of the rubble. So when his way was unimpeded and the Agency building didn't have so much as graffiti spray painted on its' brick facade, he was so incensed he nearly crashed his Mercedes. Once he regained his composure he recognized the cars in the driveway belonging to Frank Hardy, Sam Radley and the new chick he hadn't bothered to learn the name of. Furious, he whipped out his cellphone and made a call, demanding a meeting at "the usual place" at 7 pm.

7 pm rolled around and Junior was at a little coffee shop adjacent to the Bayport Mall. They made a semi decent espresso here and the tiramisu rivaled his mother's. He grabbed his usual table, in the back near the employee door and restrooms. Five minutes later, a middle aged man wearing a rumpled grey suit coat entered the shop, ordered a mocha latte and lemon poundcake and joined the younger Mario Vincente. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked in a surly tone of voice.

"Why didn't the Hardy Detective Agency explode today?" Vincente growled.

The other man looked startled. "Was it supposed to?!" he asked, honestly confused.

"I wouldn't have asked you why it hadn't if it wasn't, now would I?" Junior seethed in a barely audible voice. "Find out what the hell happened. Frank Hardy should be dead by now!"

Still confused, the man in the sport coat nodded as he stood up. "I'll ask around."

"You do that." Vincente waved a hand dismissively and ignored his informant from that point on.

It took 2 days, but the informant finally got enough of the rumors in the precinct to piece together the story. He called the number he had been given and passed along the request to meet. Given a time, he was there before Vincente for once. His mocha latte was half gone by the time Junior showed. "Riley called in the bomb squad on the QT. Kept it very quiet and off the books. He got called by Radley Sunday morning. Rumor also has it the bombers have been apprehended in Rio." That was all he knew, but it was enough to send Junior into a fit of rage.

By the time he had verified the story through his own network plus discovered that the twins had been taken and were in the custody of Interpol, about the only thing he could smile about was that his name had not surfaced in any way. The twins had kept their mouths shut and in gratitude he wired a million dollars to their off shore account for 'legal fees'. It proved to be a mistake, as the next day he was forced into his father's office. At gun point.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Vincente Jr. screamed at his father as he was shoved through the door.

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing." Vincente Sr's voice was icy calm and even his son knew not to provoke his father any further with histrionics. The old man waved a bank draft in his son's face. "Care to explain why you have wired a million dollars to an off shore bank account and why it follows a prior deposit of another million?" He had long ago given his approval for transactions to be conducted without his knowledge but two million was pushing it.

"It's for a job." Junior replied sullenly.

"_What _job?" Senior pressed, anger narrowing his eyes to slits. "There are no upcoming jobs that require this kind of money."

"What does it matter?!" Junior screamed, going on the defensive in the hopes of being able to deflect the line of questioning.

"Was it successful?" Senior asked, the anger in his voice evident. "And do not try to deceive me my son. I _will_ verify independently."

Faced with that pronouncement, Junior had no choice but to tell his father everything although he emphasized the fact that the twins had kept their mouths shut and could be counted on to not incriminate them due to the second million.

"_Coglione_*" Vincente seethed. "It does not matter whether they talk or not! The money can be traced back to the Family!" He stood up and although he was a few inches shorter than his son, he managed to give the impression of towering over him in rage. "If Hardy looks further, you will have brought ruin upon us all! He will have the proof he needs!" Vincente continued to rant in a mixture of Italian and American and heaping insults upon his son until the younger Mario could stand it no longer. He pulled out his pistol and shot his father point blank in the chest.

*****_Coglione means 'idiot' but less politely ( it refers to a piece of male anatomy)_

**A/n: **_Dad had a really bad day. By the way, if you think that is the end of it, you don't know me very well..._


	14. Chapter 13

**A/n: **_Because I love all of you sooo much, I slogged through and finished this yesterday. This is the end of this story, and I am sorry to say it will be a good long while until you see the follow up. Hope you enjoyed this not quite typical story, considering the Boys never really had a clue they were in danger.__  
_

**Chapter Thirteen**

The reception lasted well into the night, and not just because it was delayed an hour due to the power outage. Joe was in his element; he loved being the center of attention. Normally that's the bride's purview but since she had no family left and only a few friends from before she had met the charismatic blond Hardy Boy, most of the guest list was from the groom's side. Joe worked the room, usually dragging Halloran along with him to show her off. She was content to be shown off, as she knew damn well she looked smokin' hot in her dress. While she got a little sad at certain times, such as when Joe got on the floor and danced with his mother, and she was unable to join him with her father, it didn't last long as she was never allowed to dwell. Fenton took her on his arm and adroitly brought her to the dance floor and then cleverly switched partners with his son about half way through.

Frank gave a suitably touching Best Man Toast, punctuated by a few helpful comments from the rest of their boyhood pals that had the guests laughing and Joe blushing. Halloran raised an eyebrow particularly high at a comment Biff made and she called out from the front of the room to have him call her after the honeymoon as she wanted details. That only made the guests laugh harder and Joe more scarlet.

Laura sat back and basked in the glow that all mothers experience when their children get married. Fenton mentally breathed a sigh of relief that Halloran and Joe paid for everything themselves. Frank, with the exception of his speech, stayed in the background just observing and dealing with any little things that came up, like when the cake was MIA for a frantic 15 minutes until somebody remembered it had been moved to a different cooler.

As the night slowly wore down, with most of the guests slipping away in twos and threes, eventually all that was left was the original gang: Tony, Biff, Chet, Sam and even Jack Wayne put in an appearance although he had long ago stopped flying the Hardys around. Phil had shown up earlier, but left after an hour and grabbed a few party favors on the way out and begged some cake to be wrapped to take home to his exhausted wife. Joe was sitting on the floor, his back up against the slightly elevated platform that held the small orchestra they had engaged to play throughout dinner and where the DeeJay held court for the reception dancing. Leaning against him, half asleep and a little rumpled, was his wife. Laura was also half asleep in her chair, and Fenton's yawns made his jaw ache. But no one seemed to be in any rush to get up and leave.

Eventually, though, the manager gently reminded the group that his employees really wanted to clean up so they could get home before dawn. Everyone slowly stood and began to leave. Fenton half carried Laura, and Halloran was leaning very heavily on Joe. Only Gloria seemed to be awake enough to hold her own and she offered to drive the newlyweds to their hotel. In between yawns, Frank promised to be on call for pickup the next morning but hinted strongly that they should avail themselves of brunch first. Late brunch. With final hugs goodbye between everyone, the party broke up and headed towards cars and taxi stands.

At the hotel, Joe and Halloran were escorted to the suite his parents had reserved as a wedding gift. Joe was really upset he was unable to carry his bride over the threshold, upset to the point where it wasn't treated with any sort of joke or sarcasm. Halloran had to talk him off the ledge and she insisted that it was okay although she did suggest that he go ahead and make an appointment for a real cast immediately.

"Already did, Babe. I tried to have it done the other day but just couldn't find the time. But I have an appointment at 730 Monday morning and we can go directly from the office to the pier." Joe promised her, trying very hard to reign in his despair at failing to do his husbandly duty. Joe had made himself a promise months ago when he had decided to pop the question. Always a romantic at heart, he vowed that every corny cliché out there, he was going to make sure he did. From proposing on bended knee to carrying his bride over the threshold and beyond, Joe was determined that Halloran never once doubt his intentions. So that meant that right now he was very upset at not being able to keep that promise, even if she had no idea why.

Halloran knew something was bugging him, but was too tired to worry about it. And she was too happy to finally be married and no longer alone to dwell on it for more than a minute. She chalked it up to her husband being just as tired as she was and rather coyly suggested that he help her get out of her dress. She knew that being one handed would limit his amorous intentions. Much as she wanted to celebrate their union, all she really wanted at the moment was a pair of extra strength Tylenol and a down pillow. But he manfully unzipped her one handedly without protest or lewd comment before divesting himself of the tux, needing Halloran's help on the tie and cummerbund.

"I need to wash my hair and get rid of the ten gallons of hairspray that got put in." She complained as she stepped out of the lace and satin gown, leaving only her extremely see through lingerie on, causing Joe's desires to come crashing back with a vengeance. Oblivious of the stir she was creating, Hall leaned over and gave Joe quite the view as she kissed him lightly on the lips. "Wanna help scrub my back?" she asked in a very sultry voice.

"Got a better idea." he whispered back. "You go do a quick hair wash thing, and I'll get the jacuzzi tub ready." her eyes lit up and Joe forgot all about the pain in his wrist or all the other little things that had been bugging him the last hour. While she was in the shower furiously massaging her scalp, Joe made a quiet phone call to Room service and asked for a bottle of champagne and 2 glasses. It arrived very quickly, accompanied by a plate of hand dipped chocolate covered strawberries 'compliments of the hotel' and a single white rose in a beautiful crystal vase. Joe signed for it and then made two trips into the bathroom to get it set up before turning on the tup and adding a generous pour of scented bath crystals. By the time Hall finished, he was already submerged up to his chin with a glass of bubbly in his good hand.

Having not even bothered to wrap a towel around her body, Halloran stepped from shower to tub in one swift movement. The tub was big enough that she could lean against his broad chest and still stretch out her legs all the way. She did exactly that, but not before snagging her own glass of champagne. They sat there a while, saying nothing, content to relax in each other's embrace. When the water had cooled to room temp and the bottle mysteriously became empty, they drained the tub and reluctantly got out. The hotel suite provided luxurious oversized cotton bathrobes, and neither one of them bothered to put any nightclothes on before slipping under the down comforter in between satin sheets.

They didn't realize it, but the majority of newlyweds spend their first night as man and wife exactly the same way... asleep in each others' embrace. The romantic notion of making love by firelight has always been that, a romantic fantasy. Between the anticipation and excitement, most couples are just plain too exhausted to do anything more exciting than cuddle. Frank was in no danger of being called too early either.

In fact they slept in til nearly noon and it was only the shrill ringing of the phone that roused them from their slumber. It was the front desk, asking if they were checking out as the room should have been empty by 11. Joe's sleepy voice caused the clerk to chuckle and she asked if they wanted to stay another night. "_The room is not reserved and I can give you a good price an a second night's stay along with dinner in our dining room._" Joe grunted what she assumed was an agreement and hung up, asleep again before Halloran even had a chance to sleepily ask who was on the phone.

When next they came aware of their surroundings, it was almost 1pm. Halloran almost panicked at the late hour but Joe just pulled her back down into his embrace. "Pretty sure I said we were staying another night. At least I think I did." his voice was amused as he lazily traced circles on her back. "And since no one has come pounding on the door I am pretty sure we're good." They decided to have room service for lunch. Halloran took a shower and found clothes that were presentable for public appearance while Joe called down to the front desk to verify his suspicion that he had agreed to spend another night. While on the phone he also made reservations for dinner and then asked to be connected to room service, where he asked for a light lunch "Manager's discretion". It arrived while he was in the shower so Hall set it out on the table.

"Shrimp cocktail, a Ceaser salad big enough for two, cucumber sandwiches and more strawberries for desert!" She happily showed off each item in turn as he came out of the bathroom toweling his hair one handed. They fed each other between giggles and kisses before deciding to slip into bathing suits and hit the hot tub downstairs. As they walked out arm in arm, they saw the housekeeper and let her know they'd be out of the room for a while so she could do her thing.

They spent the afternoon lost in each other. Anyone who walked by and saw them could not help but smile at their obvious love for one another. Oblivious to nearly everything around them, Joe and Halloran spent the afternoon relaxing in the hot tub, taking leisurely strolls around the hotel gardens and doing some light shopping in the hotel shops. Joe picked out an emerald tennis bracelet and insisted she wear it immediately; Hall followed up with a Rolex that replaced the G shock he normally wore. Only once did the outside world intrude, Frank called about 3 to jokingly ask if he was still on call for driver duty. Joe told him to be at the hotel at 7 the next morning to take him to the ortho clinic and to please have their luggage in the car as well so that they could go right to the pier afterward.

Dinner was a quiet, luxurious affair in a candlelit room with the faint strains of a harp in the background. They shared an order of bacon wrapped scallops as an appetizer, which was followed by French onion soup, surf and turf and Baked Alaska. The downed another bottle of champagne and then were invited into the Hotel's private lounge for brandy and cigars, although Joe declined the cigar and Halloran opted for Irish coffee instead of brandy.

After dinner was another stroll, this time down paths softly lit by moonlight. It was a short one, though, as they needed to get up very early the next morning to get everything taken care of. Another night of cuddling under satin sheets and he remembered to set the alarm for 6. The next morning they conserved energy and time by showering together. Really. Frank knocked on the door at five minutes before 7, handed two large cups of coffee to the still yawning couple and grabbed their overnight bags without a word. By the time they had gotten to the ortho clinic, they were awake enough to bore Frank to tears with all their excited commentary on their upcoming trip.

Frank and Halloran waited in the waiting room while Joe got another Xray and was ushered into the back into Mikey's domain once again. In under an hour, he was back out in the waiting room sporting a real cast. He decided to test it right then and there and leaned down to grab Halloran just behind the knees and easily swung her up into his arms. She squealed, he grunted and his brother winced. "Oof. Not saying you are getting fat or anything, Dear, but you may wanna go easy on the buffet this week."

Frank nearly choked at the comment and he gaped at the two of them, as he watched Joe trying very hard to keep a straight face as Halloran started beating him about the head and shoulders with a big grin on her face until they both collapsed with laughter, Joe still making sure he didn't actually drop his wife. Frank finally just shook his head in resignation and suggested that they get going before they missed the buffet altogether.

The trip into the city took about 2 hours and they arrived at the Cruise terminal just as the doors were opening to begin processing the oncoming passengers. Frank unloaded the car and handed the luggage off to the porters while Joe tipped them and offered his newly casted arm to his wife( _I will __never__ get tired of saying that!_) for an escort through security but not before waving good bye at his brother. "We'll call you when we get back for a pick up!"

Frank chuckled and wished them well on their honeymoon. "Try not to break any other bones tripping over your own two feet. Hall, keep an eye on him. Lucky for you he can't get into the water with that thing on."

"Au Contraire, Mon Big Frere." Joe admonished in a really bad French accent. "It's waterproof! We will be parasailing, jet skiiing and snorkeling all week!" Halloran looked askance at the prospect but manfully gulped and plastered a big smile on her face, even if it was a tad bit strained. With a final wave from both of them the newlyweds disappeared into the terminal.

Five days later, Frank's cell phone rang while he was out running some personal errands. Switching the blue tooth on, he spoke into the air. "What's up, Sam?"

"_Where are you?_" came the slightly distorted voice of his father's oldest friend.

"Umm, in Southport, why?" he asked, curious since to his knowledge there weren't any open cases that needed any immediate handling.

"_Can you swing by the office? There's something we need to discuss._" something in the tone made Frank suddenly uneasy.

"About what?" he asked, a hint of alarm coloring his voice.

"_Let's discuss it in person. Pick up your father on the way._" Sam abruptly hung up, not letting Frank ask why on earth his retired father needed to be in on the meeting. 45 minutes later his fears were anything but allayed when he pulled into his family home to find Fenton already waiting outside, pacing along the front porch.

Things did not improve when, despite all of Frank's questions, Fenton refused to say a word the entire drive over to the office. He was wound tight by the time they entered the office and found Sam, Joanna and a stranger in the reception area.

"Frank, this is Carl Vincent." Sam began, with a glance at the stranger. "He has some very disturbing news to share." Frank shook the man's hand, noticing the nervousness and agitation immediately. He indicated they should all sit down, and Mr. Vincent did so as if he were about to collapse.

"Carl is just the name I go by. My real name is Giancarlo." The dark haired young man swallowed, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing. "Giancarlo Vincente." He smiled grimly at the sharp intake of breath from Frank. "Yeah. That Vincente."

"Tell Frank what you told me, son." Sam said, kindly.

"Umm, Okay." another nervous swallow and he began. "Look, I love my dad, but I never wanted to follow in his footsteps. And he was always okay with that. Hence the name change of sorts. So believe me when I tell you this is not a set up, or a trap or any sort of double cross." he looked earnestly at Frank, who shifted his own gaze to his father and Sam for reassurance. When the both nodded, Frank turned back to Carl and indicated he should proceed.

"A couple of days ago, Dad and my brother got into this huge argument over a job that Junior ordered." eyes averted, the next came out almost in a whisper. "Junior had a bomb planted in your building."

Frank went pale and his heart leapt into his throat as it was obvious from everyone else's facial expressions that they knew all about it. "What the hell?!" he started, only to stop as his father held up a a hand.

"Long story short, it was discovered Sunday morning, taken care of by Sam and Joanna, including catching the ones who set the bomb. Nothing was said because I told them to handle it without involving you.. and definitely not your brother. We originally thought it was the Hollister twins acting alone for revenge." He moved his gaze over to Carl. "We were wrong, apparently."

Carl resumed his tale. "Junior hired them. He was going to use a sniper rifle to take out any remaining Hardys at the funeral. Dad found out and was furious. Things got really heated and.." He stopped, clearly choked up. "Junior killed him and took over the Family. He has sworn vendetta against your whole family, but particularly your brother Joe." he let that news sink in before dropping another bombshell. "He has help, someone who had asked for, and gotten, permission from dad to conduct Retribution. Aldo Mazzola. That flat tire you had the day of the wedding? Was an ambush by Uncle Aldo." he rushed ahead, not letting Frank get a word in edgewise. "Uncle Aldo is the eldest of the Mazzola brothers. Dom and Luigi were the ones that took your brother before." he didn't need to go any further, Frank understood exactly all the implications, but that didn't prevent him for nearly passing out in fear at the next words out of Carl's mouth. "Uncle Aldo taught them all his tricks. He's more vicious than both of them put together. And he wants to personally torture Joe to death. Junior has promised him he can." he stopped now, done speaking.

"Why have you come to us, telling us all this?!" Frank seethed through clenched teeth.

"Because I loved my father. And Junior killed him. I want my own revenge, Mr Hardy. And you are the only people my father not only respected, but feared a little. So you are the only ones who can help me avenge his murder." he spoke the words flatly, but with an undercurrent of emotion that Frank grudgingly had to admit he understood. He, too, would have done anything to avenge his father or brother.

After Carl had left, Frank turned to the others and forcibly made his face a mask of neutrality. "What's the plan?"

"As soon as they get back, Joe and Halloran are going into protective custody. Con and Greg have already set it up. In fact Greg will be picking them up from the cruise terminal and taking them straight there. You can give Phil a reasonable excuse for Hall's extended vacation." Fenton said. He knew that Phil could be told the truth if it came to that as well.

Frank shook his head, "Joe is not going to like that, Dad."

"Tough." Fenton spat. "You do not know Mario Junior. His father was civilized and honorable in his own way. His namesake is a sadistic bastard who has no problem leaving a trail of bodies behind him as he goes after us. In fact I'd feel a helluva lot better if you went into protective custody as well, but I know that's not an option. At least I have convinced your mother to agree to it."

"Mom?!" Frank said, aghast. "He wouldn't?!"

"He would." Fenton grimly corrected. "No arguments, Frank, and if for some strange reason Joe contacts you before they get back you are to say nothing. Let them have their honeymoon in peace."

Frank left the office in a cold sweat, scared beyond reason and with dread in the pit of his stomach. He was inordinately relieved to get a hold of Gloria and he begged her to come by his apartment that night. When she arrived, bearing Thai takeout, no one was more surprised than she when Frank pulled her into the living room and buried his head in her hair, clinging so tightly she couldn't breathe. He wouldn't talk about whatever was bothering him, but allowed her to comfort him as best she could. And when he begged her to stay the night, she didn't have the heart to say no.

**A/n: **_ and there you have the set up for the next story. I know it feels a little disjointed but that was on purpose. Frank is growing up too, and starting to open himself up to emotions such as love (other than family style), hence his turning to Gloria for comfort and support. and I will tell you up front that Carl is exactly what he seems.. a distraught young man who wants his father's death avenged and who is pretty well pissed off at his older brother for committing patricide. he is not a double agent or leading the Hardy family into a trap. If you though dad was scary, you haven't seen nuttin' yet.. Aldo not only taught his younger brothers, he was worshipped by Junior. who shares his sadistic tendencies and love of violence. Joe is in for a world of hurt. you have been warned. Enjoy the last hurrah of summer and I will see you, hopefully, before the end of the year. _


End file.
